


Second Child

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:31:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Series Wee!Chester/Teen!Chester AU. John blames Sam for Mary's death and hates him. He makes a deal with another hunter to 'get rid' of Sam but the hunter can't harm what he sees as an innocent child and raises the youngest Winchester as his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire and Rain

Flames cast orange light across John Winchester's face as he stared at his burning house.

Standing on the sidewalk, the father held his infant son in one arm while his other hand was clasped around his four-year old's tiny fingers.

He did not even feel grief for his loss yet; instead all he felt was numb, cold, shocked how in the blink of an eye his life and the life of his family could be changed so tremendously.

"Sir?"

John turned wearily to see a young police officer- a kid, really- making his way towards him.

"There's nothing we can do until the fire's put out," the cop told him, his face grim, "Do you have relatives you could stay with for the night?"

John shook his head tiredly and glanced down at his eldest son.

"I guess we'll have to get a motel room," the father realized, "But I- I don't even have any money. My wallet… I left it inside."

The police officer nodded, "I can drive you to a motel and explain the situation."

John looked up at the young cop and forced a smile.

"C'mon Dean," he encouraged, squeezing his four-year old son's hand gently, "We're going to ride with… uh…"

"Officer Hawkins," the cop supplied and knelt down in front of the little boy.

The child had his thumb stuck in his mouth and leaned against his father's legs, staring at the police officer.

"Can you do a big favour for me?" Officer Hawkins asked the boy and Dean nodded, continuing to suck on his thumb.

The cop smiled and took his hat off, placing it on Dean's head. The hat, too big for the four-year old, slid down to his eyes, prevented from toppling off completely by the child's ears.

"Can you look after this for me until we get to the motel?" Officer Hawkins asked and Dean nodded, his expression serious.

John followed the officer to his cruiser, his youngest son sleeping soundly in his arms. The father climbed into the back of the car with his sons, Dean curling against him in the seat, exhausted from sleeplessness and fear.

John sat back and closed his eyes, Sam a warm bundle in his arms. Visions of fire flared behind the man's eyelids and John flinched.

Raising his free hand, the father pinched the bridge of his nose.

His wife, his beloved Mary, was dead, burnt to death in an unnatural fire that had started in his son's nursery.

John sucked in a shuddering breath as his ears rang with his dying wife's echoing scream and he hugged Dean closer to his side. The four-year old peered up at him with teary eyes and John felt his own eyes prickle with emotion.

"Is this alright, Mr. Winchester?" Officer Hawkins' voice spoke out quietly in the darkened interior of the car, startling the father.

John peered out the passenger's side window and was surprised that they were all the way on the other side of town, his house nowhere in sight; not even a column of smoke could be seen rising up from the burning residence.

Tearing his gaze away from the sky, the man glanced around until he spied the neon sign for the Brookside Motel; an old but still serviceable establishment.

"It's fine," John told the officer without any real conviction.

He didn't really care where he and his sons stayed the night.

The police officer pulled up to the motel's office and parked, climbing from the vehicle. Turning, Officer Hawkins opened the passenger's door for the father and his sons and John stepped out.

The grim group crossed the short distance to the building and stepped inside.

John, normally an assertive man by nature, stayed back and let Officer Hawkins do the talking.

Dean stood right beside his father, one hand gripping John's pant leg while the fingers of his other hand were stuck in his mouth.

In his father's arms, Sam began to fuss, the bright lights in the office waking him.

"Shhh," John hushed half-heartedly, feeling as though he was having a nightmare and that any moment he would wake up in his warm, familiar bed, next to wife.

The baby whimpered and wriggled in his father's arms, clearly upset now and starting to cry in earnest.

John rocked the baby distractedly, stopping the action when both Officer Hawkins and the middle-aged woman behind the desk turned to peer at him.

Once the police officer and woman had turned their attention away from him, John held Sam tight to his chest, the infant not happy with being held so tightly.

"Mr. Winchester?" Officer Hawkins' voice startled John and he looked up sharply, "Everything's been arranged. You and your sons can stay here as long as you need to, free of charge."

John nodded, Sam sobbing and Dean peering up at him worriedly.

"Is… is everything alright… I mean…" Officer Hawkins asked uncomfortably, clearly not sure exactly what to say.

John nodded, "We're all just tired and in shock. I'm sure we'll be better in the morning."

Not likely, the father thought but the youthful officer seemed placated.

The cop handed John a room key with a blue fob and followed him out the door. Taking the small family to their temporary living arrangements, Officer Hawkins promised that someone would contact John the next day, before bidding the Winchesters a goodnight and heading back to his car.

John unlocked the door to the motel room- the first of many he and he sons would call home- and stepped inside with his boys.

Although there was no overhead light, an old wooden desk with a lamp sat directly beside the door, in front of a window that looked out onto the parking lot. John switched on the lamp and illuminated the room.

There were two beds with light green duvets, and dark wood headboards and footboards. Each had a framed picture of a scenic river above the headboard and a nightstand between the beds with an alarm clock and a second lamp. The floor was covered in a navy blue carpet; the walls were painted a lighter blue.

Making his way forward, John reached the bed farthest from the door, closest to the tiny bathroom, and pulled down the sheets.

Carefully, the father laid his infant son down on the mattress. Sam squirmed for a moment, frowning, before settling. Dean climbed onto the bed beside him and curled his body around his baby brother and closed his eyes.

John smiled and draped the blanket over his sons, both children asleep within moments.

Sighing, the father crossed the room to the desk in front of the window and sat down, raking a hand through his dark hair.

Closing his eyes, John recalled the events that had led up to this point:

He had been watching the game on TV, alone because Mary didn't like football, and he remembered dozing off.

A scream, Mary's, had jerked John from his peaceful slumber and he had rushed up the stairs, terrified and confused.

Calling his wife's name, the auto mechanic slammed open the door to his son's nursery… only to be shown the horrific sight of his wife spread eagle on the ceiling, orange flames licking at her skin, her hair, her clothes…

John's eyes snapped open and he sat up in the desk chair.

No one else had been in the room. No one but his baby boy. The father recalled the sound of his infant son's wailing cries when he'd barged into the nursery.

Slowly, John turned in his seat to stare at the twin lumps on the bed, one small and one large, a terrible idea forming in his mind.

Perhaps it was the shock of having the life he had known ripped from him so abruptly or the exhaustion tugging at his mind the longer John peered at the tiny form on the bed that was his youngest son, the more appealing the idea became. He needed something, someone to blame.

The fire had started in his young son's nursery, and even though the boy was no more than an infant, John knew that the child was responsible for it.

Sam had killed his mother.

SPN

Officer Rory Hawkins stepped out of his cruiser just as the first drops of rain began to fall.

He had returned to the Winchester home, the fire now mostly vanquished, the upper floor of the house a charred skeleton.

"How are they?" Hawkins' partner, Officer Burke asked and Rory shrugged.

"Stressed," he replied, "Sad."

The other officer nodded, "The fire department has the flames pretty much contained, they're gonna stay until they're sure the fire won't cause anymore damage but we can get out of here."

"Hey, Fred," Rory began but then paused. He was thinking of John Winchester, holding onto his youngest son, the infant crying.

"Yeah?" Officer Burke replied, clearly ready to call it a night and head back to the station.

"Never mind," Officer Hawkins muttered.

"Let's get back before the rain really starts coming down," his partner commented and both men made their way to the cruiser, grimacing in unison as the coroner's black van pulled up beside the bright red fire truck to take care of the earthly remains of Mary Winchester.

SPN

The sound of rain splattering against the motel room window and pounding against the roof woke little Sam Winchester from his sleep.

The infant whimpered and began crying softly when a small arm curled around him and pulled him closer to his big brother.

John, still sitting up, watched from the seat at the desk, the curtains open to reveal the rain-drenched world outside the window.


	2. No Son of Mine

Joshua could hardly believe what he was hearing.

John Winchester had called him a few minutes ago, asking him to help take care of a monster problem he had.

At first Joshua was more than willing to assist his fellow hunter and occasional partner gank a creature but when John told him just what- or who- the man wanted killed, he wasn't so sure.

Everyone knew John Winchester's history, even though the man had tried to hide it. Secrets weren't so easy to keep in the hunting community, much to the chagrin of more than one man or woman who had been foolish enough to believe otherwise.

Joshua knew John had lost his wife in a strange house fire, which was what had sparked the auto mechanic and ex-Marine to enter the hunting life in the first place. John had vowed to destroy every supernatural son of a bitch out there so that no one would end up like he had.

Joshua also knew that John had two young boys as well, and one of them was the topic of the hunter's conversation now.

"He's not human, Josh," John repeated for the sixth time, "He's a monster and he needs to be put down before anything else happens."

Joshua listened to his friend, wondering just how much John had been drinking before he'd picked up his phone to call.

Joshua opened his mouth but nothing came out- he just didn't know how to respond, John Winchester was telling him one of his sons was evil, no better than the creatures they hunted.

"I- I tried to do it myself but…" John began and Joshua's heart leaped up to his throat, "…But I couldn't. Not with Dean in the other room."

Joshua had a very clear image of a cheap motel room; four-year old Dean sitting on one of the dust-mite infested beds, watching cartoons while John was in the bathroom with his younger son, water rushing into a lime-stained tub.

Before the hunter could finish that scenario, he shook his head gripping the phone tightly.

"I need you to help me, Josh," John continued, "You're the only one I trust with this."

Josh closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and spoke, "What do you need me to do?"

Of course he had no intentions of 'getting rid' of John's son, but he wasn't about to tell the distraught father that. Instead, Josh decided to play along with John and get that little boy to safety as quickly as he could.

"We're not too far from you," John informed him, "In Bannock. There's a little convenience store here, right beside the gas station."

Josh nodded, tiny Bannock with a population of just over two hundred souls, was about a two-hour drive from his home of Kent, Ohio.

"I'll drive there, fill up the Impala, and then take the boys into the store," John continued calmly as though reciting the instructions on a recipe card, "Now, Dean doesn't usually go anywhere without his brother but I'll separate them. All you need to do is walk into the store, find us, grab the boy and then leave. It'll look like an abduction and the police will search high and low for a while but they'll never find him, you'll make sure of that."

Josh listened to John outline what he was certain was going to be his son's murder and he felt sick to his stomach.

What the hell had happened to John to make him convinced his baby boy was anything but human?

Josh didn't bother asking John and instead told the man that he would be there within two hours tops, committed to getting that little boy away from his father.

"What about your other son?" Josh asked carefully.

He had met John's sons only briefly, when the father was staying at Bobby Singer's place in Sioux Falls and he clearly recalled the four-year old who hadn't let his infant brother out of his sight the entire time Josh had seen him, regarding the hunter with a wary expression that told him the little boy wouldn't be shy about kicking up a fuss if anyone so much as got too close to his tiny sibling.

"He'll get over it," John said shortly, clearly more concerned with disposing of his evil offspring than the emotional state of the remaining one.

Without saying goodbye, Josh ended the phone call and stepped out of his trailer and across the sunbaked yard to his truck.

SPN

John stepped into the motel room, having taken his phone call with Josh out on the sidewalk to prevent his sons from hearing the conversation. The motel was small- like the town- and old, completely deserted except for the Winchesters who were the only customers.

Dean looked up from the motel stationary he was drawing on with some cheap Crayons John had picked up somewhere and smiled at his father.

"Hi Daddy," he greeted and John returned the gesture.

"Where's your brother?" John asked, searching the motel room for his youngest son.

The four-year old pointed to the space in between the two beds and John spied his youngest son sitting on the floor, playing with an old stuffed teddy bear that had once belonged to Dean.

The baby lifted his gaze, stood on wobbly legs- Sam had only just started walking and was still unsteady- and reached out with both arms outstretched towards his father to be picked up.

John ignored the child and turned away. He was not going to be fooled. It might look like a little boy but John knew better, Mary was dead because of it.

Sam sat down hard on the carpet, his tiny legs no longer able to hold him up and he stared at his father's back, confused and hurt.

Determined to seek comfort, the infant crawled across the floor, past John, to Dean, who instantly picked his little brother up. Sam cuddled right up to Dean and John held back the urge to grab the baby from his four-year old's arms.

Letting out a breath slowly, John raked a hand through his hair to calm himself before peering at Dean's picture.

"What're you drawing there?" the father asked and Dean smiled up at him, "It's us! Me and Sammy and you and Mommy."

John nodded and stared down at the child's drawing and cringed at the feeling of grief that welled up within him at the thought of his late wife.

"Do you like it?" Dean asked as Sam played with a red Crayon.

John nodded and forced a smile for his son.

W

The father clutched his eldest son's hand tightly as he peered at the snack items for sale in the aisle of the little gas station convenience store.

They had been inside for no more than two minutes but John was getting anxious.

What if Josh was late? What if he decided not to come?

No, Josh was a man of his word. He'd be here, John told himself as he peered distractedly at a selection of potato chips, wondering if he should get something later for Dean.

Peering over his shoulder, the hunter saw that his youngest son was where they had left him, standing in front of a display of candy bars. Dean hadn't even noticed his brother wasn't in tow and John hoped that it would stay that way.

"You want some chips, Dean?" John asked to occupy his eldest and the four-year old nodded eagerly.

SPN

Josh pulled into the small parking area beside the Bannock Gas N' Go station, easily picking out the classic '67 Chevy Impala among the minivans and pickup trucks it shared the lot with.

Without turning the engine off, Josh sat in his truck for a long moment, wondering for the nth time since he'd agreed to do as John asked, if he was doing the right thing after all.

He hadn't even thought this all the way through. He'd grab the kid, drive away from Bannock as though there were Hell Hounds on his ass and then… well, he didn't know what he'd do after that, with a kidnapped infant as his passenger.

One thing Josh knew for certain was that there was no way he was leaving the child with John. That just wasn't an option. If the man was so convinced his little boy was a monster, it was only a matter of time before he decided to take care of the child himself- as he'd already mentioned that he had tried and failed to do- and Joshua refused to let that happen.

Gathering himself, Josh opened the door to his truck and stepped out, heading purposefully towards the little gas station.

A bell chimed above the door as the hunter stepped inside the air-conditioned store but all else was quiet.

Peering over the tops of the shelves, Josh quickly caught sight of John Winchester's form, his broad back to the front door.

Moving forward slowly, somewhat reluctantly, but spurred on by the fact that the life of a child may hinge on his actions, Josh entered the store.

He walked casually, nonchalant, pretending to look over the offered snacks, all the while moving closer and closer to John.

Stepping into the aisle, Josh saw John and his eldest son- Dan or Don, something like that- standing near a display of potato chips while the youngest Winchester was closer to him, gaze drawn to the colourfully-wrapped chocolate bars on the shelf.

Both John and his older son had their backs to Josh and the little one- who couldn't be more than a year old- hadn't appeared to notice him at all.

The hunter heard a bell tinkling from the front of the store, signaling that more customers had just entered and judging from the loud voices and whooping, they were a bunch of teenagers.

Quick as a snake, Josh reached out and picked up the infant, one arm wrapping his chubby body while the other he kept firmly over his mouth.

A pang of guilt shot through the man as he turned and headed towards the exit, the baby kicking and hitting him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Josh walked right through the group of teens who were too focused on getting snacks and drinks to pay him close attention.

Resisting the urge to run to his truck, he opened the passenger's side door, sitting the infant on the seat and buckling him in- the only thing he could do since he had no child's safety seat- before walking around the front of the vehicle and climbing into the driver's seat.

The little boy looked shocked, he stared straight ahead with large green eyes, his lower lip trembling threateningly and his tiny hands clenched into fists.

As soon as Josh turned on the truck and began to pull out of the parking lot, the baby started to wail. The hunter gritted his teeth because he knew he couldn't comfort the baby, even if he tried.

Instead, Josh drove in silence, hands clenching the steering wheel, certain a cop would see him and pull him over for not having a car seat for the child.

"Daaaaaaahhhhhh!" the infant screamed, fat tears rolling down his face, "Deeeeeeee!"

As he drove, Josh tried to figure out what he could do with the little boy. He was not going to walk into a police station with the child, nor did the idea of simply leaving him in front of one and driving off, appeal to him at all. Besides, if Josh left him, even with cops, he had no idea what would happen to the tyke. He could end up back with his father or in the hands of Child Protective Services and get shuttled from foster home to foster home for the greater part of his youth.

"Damn it, John," Josh ground out, wiping a hand across his face.

Glancing at the little boy from the corner of his eye, Josh felt his heart clench. Although the child seemed to have calmed down- or at least he had stopped crying for now- he still looked terrified. He sat as far away from Josh as he could, huddling against the truck's door, his green eyes wide and wet, his face red, twin trails of snot hanging from his nose. The boy's brown hair was so dark it was almost black, and curly, messy with bedhead.

"He looks like a little mouse," Josh thought and smiled, finally coming to a decision.

He would take care of the child. He, unlike other hunters, preferred to work alone and rarely saw others; the most contact with any one hunter he had was Bobby Singer and Josh knew the man didn't go around spreading stories.

He would look after the boy like his own.

Josh would be able to protect the child and train him to protect others against the real monsters in the world

Josh's heart clenched in his chest as he thought of his son, Luke, who had passed away years ago, killed by a Striga.

Jaw set, Josh drove back to Kent, now much more confident than he had been when he had left.

W

The hunter wasn't surprised to see that the infant's head lolling to the side, the boy fast asleep, when Josh pulled into the trailer park where he lived. The boy must be exhausted from crying.

Driving slowly through the park, Josh realized that he wasn't at all prepared to care for an infant. He would have to get a few things before too long.

Maneuvering between the tightly packed rows of trailers and RVs, Josh found his and cut the truck's engine.

Getting out of the vehicle, he walked around the front to the passenger's side and unlatched the seatbelt, picking up the baby with one hand beneath his bottom and the other supporting his back. The child, still mostly asleep, snuggled against Josh's chest and sighed, quickly falling back into his slumber.

Climbing the three built-in steps to the door of his trailer, Josh leaned the infant towards him so he could grab his keys from his pocket and let the both of them inside.

The trailer was narrow and cramped, not exactly tidy but clean. Moving past the small kitchenette area and into the back of the trailer, Josh used his free hand to fluff up the blankets on the lower of the two bunk beds and carefully settled the sleeping infant onto it.

The baby didn't even move as he was transferred from Josh's arms to the mattress and the hunter sighed with relief.

Straightening, Josh decided that he could gather some necessary items while the child was asleep and be back before he woke.

Pausing to grab a towel- he didn't think it had been used- the hunter rolled it into a tube and tucked it between the mattress and faux-wooden bedframe to create a buffer in case the baby rolled in his sleep.

Turning and heading outside once again, Josh walked purposefully down the row of trailers until he came to one with a half-dozen plastic rainbow pinwheels stuck into the dirt in front of it and briskly knocked on the door.

A fat, middle-aged woman opened the screen door and smiled at him.

"Josh! What can I do ya for?" she asked in a friendly manner.

The hunter smiled; he could hear the woman's four sons and one daughter rough-housing inside the trailer.

"Do you have a baby's car seat by any chance, Rita? I'm looking after my sister's boy and I don't have one of my own," Josh explained.

The woman grinned, showing off three missing teeth, "I sure do! I was going to sell it but if you need it… How long do you have your sister's kid for?"

Josh frowned, his expression schooled into a not-so-fake look of sadness, "Indefinitely. My sister and her husband passed away- drunk driver- and left me with the boy. I couldn't let him go to the foster-care system."

The large woman nodded in sympathy, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Josh nodded. He hadn't been lying, he did have a sister and she had passed away, but when she was seventeen, from cancer, not a car accident.

"I'll get you that car seat," Rita told Josh and closed the screen door.

The hunter looked up when the door opened again and Rita appeared holding an old but still serviceable child's car seat.

"Thanks, Rita," Josh said, genuinely gratefully, "I owe you one."

The woman smiled, "Just bring your nephew by sometime to see me."

"Will do," the hunter promised and headed back towards his trailer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Genesis song of the same name.
> 
> The next part of the story takes place after some years. Since Sam was only about a year old at this point and eleven years have passed so in the story so in the next chapters he will be twelve years old.
> 
> Please leave Kudos or a Comment if you are enjoying the story.


	3. The Secret Kind

Mouse yawned widely as he sat up in bed, careful not to crack his head against the top bunk.

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, the boy glanced towards the front of the trailer and caught sight of Josh slumped over the kitchenette table, snoring quietly.

Smiling, Mouse stood up and walked the short distance to the kitchen area and stood up on the tips of his toes to reach the box of Froot Loops cereal from the cupboard. As soon as the twelve-year old had his hands on the red cardboard box, the cupboard door slammed shut and Josh snorted at the sudden sound, waking up.

The child peered over his shoulder at his uncle. Josh rubbed a hand down his stubbly chin and blinked blearily a couple of times.

Looking around, the hunter sighed, "I fell asleep at the table, didn't I, Kiddo?"

Mouse nodded, "Yeah. You came back late and kind of passed out. I didn't want to wake you up."

Standing slowly, Josh stretched, "I meant to get back earlier."

The twelve-year old shrugged, "It's okay, really."

Mouse knew about monsters and hunters, he knew that his uncle was one of the brave men and women that saved innocent people from the creatures that went bump in the night so it didn't bother him if Josh came home in the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes Josh would leave him at the park, if the case he was working on was close by- while other times he'd take Mouse with him. The boy never helped out with the hunts, Josh had made it very clear that he didn't want the boy getting involved in all of that… at least not right now.

Josh had told Mouse that if, when he was older, he wanted to be a hunter, then he wasn't going to stop him, but for now, he just had to focus on one thing, and that was being a kid.

The boy's uncle gave him a sad look, he always hated to leave Mouse behind, before he reached up and grabbed two bowls from the cupboard for their cereal.

While Josh found a couple of spoons, Mouse took a jug of milk from the small refrigerator.

Frowning, the twelve-year old held up the plastic jug to show Josh, "We need more milk."

There was about a quarter of the liquid left, enough for the morning's breakfast but not much else.

Josh nodded as he poured two heaping bowls of cereal, "I'll get some today."

For a few minutes, uncle and nephew ate in silence before Josh spoke again.

"How was it at Rita's? Did they let you choose the movie?"

Mouse pulled his spoon out of his mouth and shook his head, shrugging to let his uncle know that it was no big deal.

There weren't many kids his own age in the trailer park and although Rita's sons and daughter were a few years older than Mouse, he often found himself in their company, especially if Josh was away for more than a day or two. Josh's trailer had a radio but no television and if Mouse wanted to watch a show or movie, he had to go down to Rita's.

"It was okay," Mouse told his uncle, "Rita made Kraft Dinner for us and we had doughnuts for dessert."

Josh nodded, finishing up his cereal and taking his dishes to the sink to wash.

"Her kids weren't too rough?"

Mouse managed to roll his eyes in exasperation so he wouldn't have to lie to his uncle. Rita's four sons- and daughter, for that matter- loved to watch WWE and MMA on television and then imitate the moves they had seen on each other… or Mouse, if he was there.

Even though Josh didn't want him getting involved with hunting, that didn't mean his uncle hadn't taught him how to protect himself and Mouse knew more than a few tricks that would make real wrestlers cry like babies. But Josh had made him swear never to use what he knew on another person so he was forced to put up with Rita's sons.

"Okay, okay," Josh relented, a concerned look fading from his face, "I just worry, those boys aren't exactly lightweights."

Now Mouse gave him a truly exasperated look, "You hunt monsters without blinking an eye and you're worried about Rita's sons?"

Josh shrugged, "Well, they're a lot bigger than you."

Mouse scowled though he didn't really mean it. He knew he was small for his age, something that made his name fit perfectly.

"You finished?" his uncle asked and Mouse nodded, allowing Josh to pick up his empty cereal bowl and spoon.

"Can we do something today? Together, just us?" Mouse asked, trying not to sound whiny and not quite succeeding.

Even though he was twelve and by no means a little kid anymore, he really missed his uncle when Josh left him to go on hunts.

Josh turned to the boy and nodded, "Sure, whatever you want, Kiddo."

SPN

Josh peered at Mouse in the dimly lit movie theatre but the boy didn't notice, enjoying his popcorn and the pre-movie entertainment.

The hunter could hardly believe that eleven uneventful years had passed since that fateful day John Winchester had called from Bannock.

Sometimes, when Josh looked at Mouse, all he could see was the wide-eyed, chubby-cheeked, tearstained face of the infant he had 'abducted' from a small-town Gas N' Go.

Mouse had no idea of his real origins. As soon as the boy was old enough, Josh had told him that he was the child's uncle and that his mother and father (Josh's sister and brother-in-law) had perished in a car accident, the same story he had told Rita the first day the infant had come into his life.

To make the tale even more believable, Josh had shown the boy a picture of his 'mother' and himself, holding an infant, all smiles. The photograph was actually a picture of Josh, his wife and son, Luke the day he had been born.

Mouse, although not a gullible child, believed Josh and surprisingly asked few question about his parents. The hunter guessed that just knowing what his mother looked like was enough for him.

In all eleven years, Josh had managed to keep Mouse a secret. The only other hunters that had ever met the boy were Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner- two men Josh knew kept their traps shut about just everything else so he trusted them not to go telling anyone else about Mouse- for fear that John would find out that Josh had failed to 'get rid' of his boy.

Not that Josh was afraid of John Winchester. No, he was more afraid of what the man would do to Mouse if he found out he was still alive.

"Popcorn?"

Mouse's voice interrupted Josh's thoughts and the hunter turned to look at the boy holding a half-empty bag of popcorn out to him.

Chuckling, trying to shake off the less-than-pleasant thoughts, Josh took a handful of popcorn.

"You wanna save some for the movie?"

Mouse's peered down into the paper bag, noticing for the first time that had had eaten nearly all of the popcorn.

"Sorry," he muttered guiltily.

Josh frowned; he hadn't intended on upsetting the kid, it was just some popcorn. He could get some more if they really needed it.

"Don't worry about it," he told Mouse, "I think the movie's about to start any minute."

Sitting back, munching on his handful of popcorn, Josh decided that he wouldn't think about John Winchester that day. The man was an asshole and didn't deserve Josh's time. Instead, Josh thought back on the first few days with Mouse and how grateful he had been that he knew how to look after an infant.

Eleven Years Ago…

Josh opened the door to his trailer carefully, letting out a breath when he heard silence; the baby was still sleeping.

Stepping inside, he sat the car seat down on the kitchenette table and made his way to the rear of the trailer, peering down at the little boy sleeping on the bed.

As the hunter watched, the infant's eyelids fluttered and opened to reveal a pair of mossy green eyes. Lower lip trembling, the baby let out a sad cry and Josh acted instinctively, scooping the little boy up and holding him cradled against his chest.

The child whimpered for a moment more before settling down, the physical contact- even with a stranger- comforting him, Josh decided.

Moving from one end of the trailer to the other, Josh soothed the infant, humming a nonsense song as he went. The baby closed his eyes and yawned snuggling against Josh, falling asleep again.

The hunter closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

W

Josh took a sip of coffee as he finished off the list he was writing early the next morning. He would need to pick up a few things for the baby. Besides the car seat he'd borrowed from Rita, he had nothing in his trailer he needed for taking care of a year-old infant.

Standing up from the small table, Josh stretched and slipped the list into the pocket of his jeans. Finishing his coffee, he moved to the back of the trailer to where the baby was sleeping.

Smiling, the hunter reached down and picked up the child, cradling him against his chest. The baby wriggled and his eyes opened. For a moment the child peered at him with a rather grave expression before laying his head on Josh's shoulder and sticking his thumb into his mouth.

"What do you say we find you some breakfast and then go on a little outing?" Josh asked and walked back to the front of the trailer.

Holding the infant with one arm, the hunter peered at the contents of his cupboards to find an appropriate breakfast food for him.

"Look," Josh crowed, "Cheerios!"

The baby peered at the yellow box with interest, reaching out for it with chubby hands.

The hunter chuckled, "You like these, eh?"

Carrying both baby and cereal box over to the small table, Josh slid into the booth, setting the infant up on his lap. Opening the top flaps and crinkly plastic bag, the hunter poured some Cheerios out onto the table.

The baby burbled happily at the sight of the cereal and waved his arms before scooping up a handful and shoving them into his mouth.

Smiling, relieved that he'd found something the child would eat, Josh dug a hand into the box of Cheerios and brought a fistful to his own mouth, chewing loudly.

W

"Phew, kiddo, you're lucky we're going into town this morning," Josh told the baby as he peeled away the soiled diaper and tossed it into the trash, grabbing handfuls of toilet paper to wipe the infant's bum.

The baby whimpered and squirmed under Josh's ministrations and the hunter frowned at the sight of bright red skin surrounding the infant's anus and creeping up towards his genitals.

"We'll get something to fix that," Josh promised, tossing the dirty toilet paper into the toilet and flushing it.

"I don't have anymore diapers so you'll have to go commando for a while," he told the baby as he pulled the infant's small pair of pants up, "Hope that okay."

Now that he was clean, the baby wriggled and let out a happier burble.

"Gotta remember to get you some new duds, too," Josh muttered to himself.

"All right, let's see if I can recall how to put that car seat into the pickup," the hunter said as he lifted the boy and carried him out of the bathroom, forgetting to wash his hands before leaving.

W

It had been many years since Josh had had to install a car seat and quickly found out that it was not like riding a bike; he didn't know what he was doing at all.

Sighing and wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead, he glanced down at the baby who was sitting contentedly in the grass beside the car, picking at the sparse grass and shoving the blades into his mouth.

"You're one of those kids, are you?" Josh asked and picked the child up, brushing pieces of grass off the boy's small t-shirt, "Puts everything and anything into your mouth."

The boy laughed, giving Josh a view of tongue and gums stained dark green.

"Ah well," the hunter mumbled, "Builds up your immune system."

Moving away from the truck, Josh walked next door to Rita's trailer and banged his fist against the metal frame of the screen door.

From inside the residence came the sound of rapidly moving bare feet and giggling. Suddenly the interior door was thrown open and a little girl of about three was standing in the door, wearing an oversize 'Slayer' t-shirt and nothing else.

"Is Rita in?" Josh asked though he was almost certain she was.

The little girl peered up at the hunter with eyes the colour of mud and said nothing.

"Brandy! Who's at the door?" Rita's voice could be heard shouting from the other end of the trailer.

Josh sighed as the child let the interior door go and ran out of sight, towards the sound of her mother's voice.

Moments later, the plodding steps of the family's matriarch announced her arrival and Rita was leaning out of the doorway, grinning at the hunter.

"You're as good as your word, Joshie," the woman chuckled, eyes taking in the sight of the baby in the man's arms as though the infant were a cheeseburger.

"Actually Rita," Josh cringed, hating it when she called him 'Joshie', "I came to ask a favour."

"Mmhm?" she muttered, keeping her eyes on the little one.

"I haven't had to install a car seat in years and I don't remember how," the hunter explained sheepishly, "Do you think you could come over and show me how?"

Rita nodded, "So long as you let me hold that babe."

Josh nodded and handed the infant over to Rita.

The baby stared up at the woman for a long moment, apparently not sure whether to cry or not then settled to peering at Josh with pleading green eyes.

Rita stepped out of the trailer, letting the door slam shut behind her, and followed Josh. As they walked the short distance to Josh's truck, he heard Rita making silly noises to the baby and the infant laughing unsurely.

"All right Josh," Rita said, resting the baby on her hip, "First thing you've gotta do is put the seat in backwards."

The hunter raised an eyebrow, "You're sure?"

Rita nodded, "Its so's they don't go flying through the win'shield if you stop suddenly."

Josh did as he was told and turned the car seat so that it was facing the back of the vehicle.

"Now you need to put that strap there," Rita pointed with her free hand, "And clip it there and there and there…"

Within two minutes the car seat had been successfully installed with a minimum of fuss and Rita was reluctantly handing the baby back to Josh.

"What's his name?" Rita asked before turning to head back to her trailer.

"Uh," Josh hesitated. He couldn't very well give the boy's real name, especially if there were cops out looking for him, "His name is Luke."

Josh smiled even as his heart began to beat faster at the thought of his own little boy. He hadn't planned to say 'Luke' the name of his long-gone son, but it slipped out and now he couldn't change it.

"Well feel free to bring 'im over to play with Brandy and the boys whenever you're out of town," Rita told Josh.

"Thanks," he said, "I'll do that."

Once Rita had gone back into her trailer, yelling at her sons to stop beating on their sister, Josh sighed and glanced down at the baby.

"What do you say we go out for a while?" he asked and the baby burbled happily.

Quickly strapping the boy into his car seat, Josh climbed into the driver's seat and started the truck's engine, once again hoping he was doing the right thing by keeping the child instead of leaving him at the police station or hospital.

W

The grocery store was relatively quiet, as many people were at work and would do their shopping in the evening, after they were finished.

Josh placed the baby the cart and headed inside, pulling his list from his pocket as he did so.

He remembered from taking care of his own son, that by one year, babies could start eating a mix of baby formula and adult foods as long as they were easily to chew- or gum- and digest.

Heading down the aisle of the store that catered to the needs of infants, Josh parked the cart in front of the rows of formula and tried to figure out which ones the baby might like. As far as Josh knew, the only thing the boy enjoyed eating was Cheerios.

"Hmm," Josh muttered, picking up a can of formula and showing it to the baby, "Do you like this stuff?"

The baby looked up at the hunter and smiled, waving his pudgy arms and crowed, "Dada!"

For a split second Josh's heart leaped into his throat and he turned around to find the aisle empty. Sighing, he peered at the baby, "Josh. I'm Josh. Can you say that?"

"Dada!"

Josh squinted at the infant. He didn't even look like John Winchester so he didn't know why the baby was calling him 'Dada'. Deciding they could work on 'Josh' later, the hunter read the label on the can of formula powder and saw that it was for younger babies and put it back on the shelf. He needed a formula for infants at least twelve months old.

"Here we go!" Josh announced and grabbed six cans of formula for infants up to twelve months and dumped them into the cart, "That wasn't so bad."

Spying a lineup of tall, yellow containers filled with star-shaped cereal, Josh grabbed a couple of them and tossed them in with the formula.

Gripping the handle, he pushed the cart down the aisle to the area where the diapers and wipes were kept. The hunter spent a long time going between Huggies, Pampers and a no-name brand of diapers before grabbing the cheaper choice, quickly checking the size of the diapers and guesstimating that they'd fit the boy. Afterwards he grabbed six packages of wipes and put them into the cart along with the formula and diapers, talcum powder and a container of rash cream quickly following.

"All right, Luke, let's check out the produce," Josh said and the baby babbled happily as the hunter pushed the cart towards the part of the store that held food.

Within no time the cart was filled with vegetables and fruit, boxes of unsweetened cereals, bags of pasta and trays of chicken and a carton of twenty-four eggs.

Steering the cart to the checkout, Josh waited in line patiently while the boy stared at everything and babbled away.

"What an adorable little boy you have," the elderly female cashier told Josh as he approached her, "He looks just like a little mouse."

The hunter smiled and began placing items on the conveyor belt.

"Dada!" the baby squawked loudly, "Dada! Dada!"

The cashier chuckled as she began ringing the items through. Again, Josh felt unease and told himself he was just being paranoid. If John had followed him to make sure he'd done what he said he'd do, Josh was certain that by now the father would publicly accuse him of kidnapping and have the boy back in his custody by evening.

"Deee!" the baby called, legs drumming against the cart, "Deee!"

The elderly cashier told Josh the total and he pulled a wad of bills out of his wallet, thumbing through them to find the cash he owed.

Once he'd been given his change, Josh quickly packed the groceries into bags, telling the baby he couldn't wait until he was old enough to help out with tasks such as this one, and then they were heading out to the parking lot, their next destination already in mind.

W

Picking clothes was easier than choosing diapers or formula. All Josh had to do was check the ages listed on the tag of a garment and make sure the item was an article of clothing for a boy and toss it into the cart.

He grabbed a half-dozen pairs of onsies in various colours, twelve pairs of pants and twelve shirts- both long-sleeved and t-shirt- to go with the pants. Before leaving, Josh picked up a pair of pajamas and shoes.

"There, that wasn't so bad," the hunter said he pushed his cart towards the checkout of the department store.

The baby blinked owlishly at Josh and muttered tiredly. The hunter smiled at the little boy and picked up his pace, wanting to get the infant home and to bed as soon as possible.

W

"Home sweet home," Josh murmured to the baby sleeping in his arms.

Before doing anything else, the hunter tore open a package of the diapers he had just bought, put one on the drowsy infant and settled him onto the bed sans pants. Within seconds the baby was asleep, a rolled up towel preventing him from falling out of the bed.

Once he was sure the infant was settled, Josh unloaded the groceries from the truck and put them away, tearing the tags off the clothing and putting them in the small dresser across from the narrow bunk bed in the recess that served as a bedroom in the trailer.

Turning around, Josh frowned for a moment when the baby whimpered in his sleep.

"You really do look like a little mouse," the hunter muttered to himself as the baby eased back into a more comfortable sleep.

A sudden sharp banging at the trailer door had Josh swearing and hurrying to the front of the home.

"What do you kids want?" the hunter asked in an unfriendly tone at Rita's offspring standing in his patch of yard.

His neighbours four boys and one girl, all peered up at him with the heartless expression only children can give an adult and get away with, "We wanna see the baby."

Junior- Kenneth Jr. actually- the oldest boy told Josh and took a step forward.

"He's sleeping," the hunter said, "You're all gonna have to come back later."

"We won't wake 'im," Junior insisted, "We promise, right?"

His siblings, Wayne, the second oldest, Ronnie the third and Axton, only four years old, and holding little Brandy's hand tightly, all nodded, earnest expressions on their faces.

Josh sighed, "All right, but y'all gotta be quiet."

The kids smiled and crowded into the small trailer, following the hunter to the back bedroom.

Josh put a finger to his lips to emphasize the need to be silent as the children crowded around the bed, peering down at the infant.

"Why's he so small?" Ronnie asked, looking up at Josh.

"Because he's a baby, stupid," Junior snapped and punched his younger brother on the arm.

"When can he come an' play with us?" Axton asked.

"Not until he's a bit older," Josh answered, "He's still a little guy."

Brandy reached out a hand but Junior grabbed her wrist before she could touch the baby, "Don't."

The little girl stuck out her lower lip in a pout but did as her brother asked.

Wayne yawned, growing bored.

"Let's go home and watch WWF," he suggested.

As one, the siblings turned and headed back towards the front of the trailer, not even saying thank you to Josh as they left, the door slamming after them.

The hunter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Those four are going to be a handful."

Turning his attention back to the baby, Josh smiled and told himself he was doing the right thing, looking after the infant instead of leaving him for someone else to look after.

SPN

"Did you like the movie?" Josh asked as he and Mouse left the theatre, squinting in the bright sunlight after sitting in the dark for an hour and a half.

"Yeah, it was great," the boy said, "Thanks Josh."

"No problem," the hunter said, "You know I always enjoy doing things like this with you."

Just as they reached the truck, Josh's cell phone rang and he dug the black, flip Motorola from his jacket pocket.

"Yeah?" he asked and was silent for a moment as he listened to the person on the other end talk.

Mouse, with one hand on the door handle, sighed and scuffed at the curb with his sneaker. No one ever called his uncle unless it was for a hunt.

"Okay," Josh was saying, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Ending the call, the hunter closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, grabbing his keys from another to unlock the truck.

"What was it?" Mouse asked as he climbed onto the long bench seat.

"Oh Bobby Singer wants my opinion on something," Josh replied casually, as though Bobby Singer often called him up to get his opinion on things.

Mouse looked up at his uncle, "Not a hunt?"

Josh shook his head and started the truck's engine, "Nope. Bobby just wants me to come over and look at a few things. It's for another hunter, actually."

"Who?" the boy wanted to know instantly. He'd only ever met Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner in person but he'd heard all about many other hunters from his uncle.

Josh shrugged, "Didn't say. Doesn't matter. I'll go up to Sioux Falls as soon as we get home and I should be back by tomorrow hopefully."

"I want to go with you," the twelve-year old said, "Can I go with you?"

"I don't think so," Josh replied, paying more attention to the road than to the boy, "I'll drop you off at Rita's and-"

"I don't want to go to Rita's again," Mouse argued, "I want to go with you. You just got back from a hunt and now you have to go away again. Why can't I come with you? You know I won't cause any trouble."

Josh sighed, "I know you won't cause trouble, Mouse, but I just wanna get this done and over with."

"Please let me come along," the boy pleaded, "It's just to Bobby's. It's not like you're going on a hunt."

"We'll see, all right?" Josh growled, "I'll think about it if you'd stop pestering me about it."

Mouse sat back and stared out the smeary side window, feeling his eyes prick with unshed tears. He hated it when Josh was mad at him, but his uncle didn't understand. He didn't really like it at Rita's and besides, he felt like he barely got to see the man sometimes because he was always off on one hunt or another. Sure, Josh would take him along often, but only if the hunt was close by.

And now Josh was only going to Bobby Singer's place, not even going on a hunt and he didn't even want to take him along? It wasn't like Mouse hadn't ever been to Sioux Falls; he'd been there loads of time and there had never been a problem.

As Josh pulled the pickup truck to his trailer, a loud bang from next door startled both him and Mouse and the two watched as Rita's boys rolled out of the doorway and onto the sparse grass, punching and kicking one another. Josh stopped his truck and watched the scuffle for a few moments, not at all surprised when Brandy, wearing a rainbow dress and white tights, crashed through the screen door and joined the fray, hitting just as hard as her brothers were.

"Okay, you can come to Sioux Falls with me," Josh said and cut the truck's engine.

Mouse said nothing as he scrambled from the cab and headed inside to grab his duffel bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Screaming Trees song of the same name.
> 
> Please leave kudos or a comment if you're enjoying the story :)


	4. Darkness on the Edge of Town

"Hurry up, Kiddo, or I'm leaving without you!" Josh called from behind the pickup truck's steering wheel.

With a slap of the screen, Mouse ran out of the trailer, duffel bag in hand. Tossing the piece of luggage through the passenger's side window, the boy made to open the door for himself.

"Did you lock up?"

Mouse paused.

"No, sorry," he replied and returned to the trailer, taking a key from his pocket and locking the thin metal door behind the screen.

"Ready?" Josh asked when the boy returned to the pickup truck and sat down on the long bench seat.

"Ready," the boy confirmed.

Josh pulled the truck onto the dirt road that meandered through the trailer park and told himself that maybe he'd been wrong, that having company for the nearly fourteen-hour long drive would be nice. Besides, Mouse had been to Bobby Singer's place a number of times and was always welcome there.

Feeling better about his decision to let the boy come along, Josh reached over to the radio and turned it on, humming along to a song on the country music station he preferred.

W

They arrived in Sioux Falls early the next morning, only having stopped for gas, grabbing meals from Drive-Thru windows, and quick bathroom breaks. Josh drove all night while Mouse stretched out beside him on the bench seat.

Still dozing, the boy groaned when Josh took his hand off the steering wheel to rouse him.

"We're here," he told the boy.

Mouse sat up, yawning widely and rubbing at his eyes.

"How'd you sleep?" the hunter asked, knowing the pickup's seat wasn't really all that comfortable.

"Okay," the boy answered, "You really drove all night?"

Josh nodded, "Bobby said it was an emergency."

"I wonder what it is," Mouse thought out loud.

They drove through the quiet residential streets of Sioux Falls; Mouse watching the handsome houses and well-manicured lawns easing by the side window.

"Hey Josh," he spoke up.

"Yeah?" the hunter asked.

"Why didn't we ever buy a house?"

"What's wrong with the trailer?" Josh asked, paying more attention to his driving then the boy.

"Nothing wrong with it," Mouse replied quickly, "It's just… a lot more people live in houses than trailers right?"

"Hm," the hunter muttered, "Well there are a lot of trailer parks all around the country, Kiddo."

"A house is expensive," Josh continued, "You have to maintain it and then there's taxes and heat and hydro to pay. I just don't have that kind of money, Mouse. But there's no reason you can't get a good, well-paying job and have your own house when you're older."

Mouse stared out at the houses they passed, some with sprinklers watering lawns, some with huge trees shading them, some with hanging plants decorating their porches, and decided that he would like a house.

They soon left the residential area and passed through the industrial section of Sioux Falls, quickly coming to the edge of the town.

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, Josh handed the Motorola to the boy, "Give Bobby a call an' let him know we're almost there."

"Okay," Mouse said and opened the flip phone, scrolling through Josh's list of contacts- the majority of them hunter, though John Winchester's name was absent from the list- and found Bobby Singer's name and phone number.

Putting the phone to his ear, Mouse listened as it rang twice before being picked up.

"Whaddayawant?" the gruff, irritated voice of Bobby Singer asked and Mouse smiled.

"Hi!" he chirped, "It's Mouse. We're almost at your house."

"Decided to bring you along for the ride, did he?" Bobby asked.

"Yup," the twelve-year old replied.

"All right," the hunter continued, "Well tell Josh I'll see y'all soon."

With that the connection was broken and Mouse closed the phone, handing it back to his uncle.

They drove in silence for the next ten minutes, passing warehouses and factories, until they reached the edge of town, where the houses were more dilapidated than those in the residential areas, and became few and far between.

Then, Josh was pulling his pickup through the gate in the chain-link fence surrounding Bobby Singer's property, tires crunching on gravel and sending small puffs of dust into the early morning air. Turning the pickup to the left and pulling onto the grass beside the dirt driveway, Josh parked the vehicle.

Mouse jumped down from the truck and ran up the wooden porch steps, pressing the ancient doorbell with his thumb.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Bobby's rough voice called from inside the house, "Don't get yer panties in a twist."

Mouse giggled and stopped pressing the doorbell. He peered at the older hunter through the screen door and smiled.

"You two made good time," Bobby said as he held the door open for the boy and his uncle who stepped through right after the child.

"You made it clear it was time sensitive," Josh reminded him and the older man nodded, his expression grim.

"Mouse," Bobby said, turning to the boy, "Why don't you go into the den and watch some TV for a little bit? Your Uncle Josh and I need to talk in private."

Looking a little put out that he couldn't hear about the hunt Bobby was helping with, Mouse nodded and walked into the living room just off the front entry that contained a ratty old couch, a couple of patched armchairs, a large bookshelf stuffed with tomes on the supernatural and Bobby's desk strewn with papers.

The two men waited until they could hear the television playing before they went into the kitchen.

"Beer?" Bobby asked as Josh took a seat at the Formica kitchen table.

"Just tell me what's suddenly got you on edge, Bobby," the younger hunter told him.

The older man grabbed a beer for himself from the fridge but instead of sitting, leaned against the counter.

"Now, before you go flying off the handle," he cautioned the younger man, "I heard this from Rufus so I ain't completely sure if its true or not."

Josh frowned, his heart skipping a beat and adrenaline pumping into his veins.

"Rufus called me up yesterday," Bobby paused to take a drink of beer, "To let me know that Hawkins was blabbing about yer kid."

Josh's frown deepened. He had helped Rich Hawkins out with a werewolf hunt about a month ago. Richard Hawkins, also known unkindly as 'Motormouth' Hawkins, had a tendency to start gabbing whenever he drunk. Although he was supposed to be a recovering alcoholic, it seemed that the AA meetings he claimed to be going to had no effect. Josh, aware of the other hunter's weakness, hadn't even brought up Mouse in conversation; at least he didn't think he had anyway.

He guessed it didn't really matter how Hawkins had found out about Mouse, all that mattered was that he had… and who he had told.

"Don't say it, Bobby," Josh said, because the only reason the older hunter would call him to Sioux Falls for an emergency was the thing he'd been worried about for the past eleven years.

The grizzled hunter nodded, "Seems ol' Johnny Winchester and Hawkins were at the same watering hole and they suddenly became very chummy when Motormouth mentioned you had a kid."

Josh felt all the blood drain out of his face and he stood up quickly.

"Shit!" he snapped, "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Bobby, remaining calm, continued, "Rufus tried to intervene, reminding John how Hawkins always told the most outlandish stories when he was plastered. I mean, besides Rufus and me, no one really knows about Mouse. But John wasn't having any of it. Hell, he even got this look in his eye, Rufus told me, that even scared him."

Josh raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

"Do you think John would try anything? I mean, Mouse is no longer his problem, so why should it matter?"

The hunter shook his head, "Who am I kidding, this is John Winchester we're talking about."

From the living room, both men heard Mouse laugh at something on the TV before returning to their conversation.

"John knows where I live," Josh said, "I can't take Mouse back there."

Bobby nodded, "If you need to hide out, Rufus said you could use his cabin up in Montana. He feels really bad about what Hawkins did, son."

Josh didn't like the idea of hiding but he needed time to regroup and figure out how he was going to get John off his and Mouse's trail.

"I'll help you if I can," Bobby assured him.

"Thanks," the younger hunter muttered, "I appreciate it."

"You want that beer now?" Bobby asked but Josh shook his head.

"Mouse and I still have a long way to go before reach Montana."

Bobby nodded as the younger hunter stood up.

"I'm sorry it's come to this, Josh," he told him.

The younger man shook his head, "Not your fault. I should have known better than to go on a hunt with Hawkins."

"Mouse! C'mon we're leaving!" Josh called and he heard the television suddenly go silent.

The twelve-year old appeared in the doorway to the living room.

"Already? Did you help Bobby?" he asked and then frowned, "Josh, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

The hunter shook his head, "It's nothing you have to worry about, son."

Mouse followed his uncle as the man walked towards the front door.

Josh paused and turned to Bobby, who had followed them down the narrow hallway.

"Do me a favour?" he asked and Bobby nodded, "Next time you see Rich Hawkins, punch him right in the motormouth of his for me, okay?"

Bobby gave a thin smile, "With pleasure."

W

Bobby stood in the doorway and waved to Josh and Mouse as the hunter's pickup truck pulled out of the driveway.

Closing the door, Bobby sighed and suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. Footsteps on the steps to the top floor of the house announced John Winchester making his way towards him.

The hunter smiled, "Thanks Bobby, you're a good friend."

The older man did not return the gesture.

"Go to Hell," he muttered to the younger man as John stepped into the kitchen and used Bobby's phone to call his son.

"Now get outta my house," Bobby growled once the younger man had finished his phone call.

John, with a smirk on his face, walked out of the house and stood on the porch, waiting for Dean to arrive with the Impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Bruce Springsteen song.
> 
> Please leave kudos or a comment.


	5. Youth

Dean Winchester liked to think that his father was a good person, someone who helped those in need and put the safety of civilians above all else.

Dean liked to think that. But if John Winchester was such a good person, why was his sixteen-year old son sitting across from a terrified young woman with his gun pointed at her?

Fifteen hours earlier…

Bobby Singer looked up sharply as gravel crunched under tires on his driveway and the rumbling of an engine was quickly cut off. Turning around in his seat at his desk, the grizzled hunter peered out of the large bay window behind him and saw a very familiar car.

A very familiar car John Winchester should not be exiting.

"What the hell?" Bobby asked himself and moved around his desk as the younger hunter's boots thudded quickly up the porch steps.

Before John could even lift a hand to knock on the door, it was open, Bobby filling the doorway.

"The hell are you doing with that car?" the older hunter asked, anger and trepidation clear in his tone.

"You knew," John spat, "You knew about it."

"What are you talking about?" Bobby asked, "An' why do you have that car?"

"I trusted you, Bobby!" John growled, "And you betrayed me."

"What. Are. You. Doing. With. That. Car?" Bobby asked slowly, feeling adrenaline pump into his veins as he tried to figure out why the younger hunter would be driving in his daughter's car.

"Why didn't you tell me it was still alive? Why didn't you tell me Josh had it?" John snarled and Bobby suddenly realized what had the younger hunter foaming at the mouth.

"That's yer child yer talking about!" he growled, "Your flesh and blood!"

John raised both hands and grabbed the doorframe in a threatening manner, as though he really wanted to grab Bobby by the throat but was holding back.

"That… boy… is the reason Mary's dead," he ground out, "She's dead because of it."

"Are you out of yer mind?" Bobby asked, "That child was a baby! A baby! No more capable of killing yer wife than he was of understanding advanced thermodynamics."

John shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"That's where you're wrong, Bobby," he said, chuckling as if it was all very funny, "It looked like a baby but wasn't. It started that fire and killed my Mary."

Bobby stared at John, awestruck.

"It's my fault really," the younger hunter continued, "After Mary passed I tried to kill it but… it was too good… it looked too much like a baby and I couldn't bring myself to hurt it."

"You tried to murder your own child?" Bobby asked, shocked by the confession.

"I thought Josh understood what it was," John continued, "But I should have known better. It fooled me and it fooled him."

The older hunter stared, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"So he's kept it all these years," John said, lifting his gaze to Bobby's, "And raised it like his own son. And you knew about it, Bobby and didn't say anything to me!"

"Josh told me what you two talked about over the phone," the grizzled hunter said, "How you wanted him to take the boy and kill 'im. Make it look like some pedophile or whatnot had snatched the boy. Josh thought you were crazy and, John, I'm sorry to say, he was right."

"It has you wrapped around its little finger!" John insisted, "All of you!"

Bobby shook his head, "I can't believe what I'm hearing. I always thought you were one of the more mentally stable hunters around."

"I am not crazy, Bobby, and I'll prove it," John told him, "I'm going to finish what I started eleven years ago."

The younger hunter's words brought the older man back to the thing that had first set off warning bells in his head in the first place.

"Why are you driving my daughter's car?" he asked the younger man slowly.

John grinned, his eyes filled with a fanatical light.

"I knew you wouldn't want to co-operate," he said, "I knew you'd think that little monster was just a little boy. So, I took out some insurance."

Bobby felt his heart skip a beat and the blood drained from his face.

"Why get her involved? She doesn't know anything. I haven't talked to her in years," he told the younger man.

John shook his head, "Like I said, I needed insurance. Don't worry; I didn't hurt her. Dean's with her right now."

"Insurance for what?" Bobby asked through narrowed eyes, "What are you planning?"

The younger hunter sucked in a deep breath and straightened, lowering his hands from the doorframe.

"You're going to call Josh," John told Bobby, "Get him and… the kid… to come here, if you can-"

"Yer not killing anyone on my watch!" the older hunter interrupted vehemently.

"And you're going to let Josh know old Motormouth spilled the beans to me," John continued as though Bobby hadn't spoken.

"Richard Hawkins?" Bobby asked and John nodded.

"The idiot got liquored up and told me everything he knew about Josh and the boy. Rufus was there too, tried to tell me Hawkins didn't know what he was saying. As if I believed that."

"You're going to get them here," the younger hunter continued upon the original line of dialogue, "Tell them I'm on their trail, suggest they get out of dodge. Go to Rufus' cabin, say, since he doesn't use it often."

"An' where will you be," Bobby asked.

John's eyes rolled up to look at the ceiling, "So I know you're co-operating."

"And Carrie Ann? What about her?" Bobby asked, feeling his heart pound in his chest at the thought of his daughter.

"As long as you do what I say," John assured him, "She won't get hurt."

"Yer a cold bastard, John Winchester," Bobby told him but moved out of the way to let the younger man enter his house.

"I want to know my daughter's all right," the older hunter demanded and John sighed as though the request exasperated him.

"Fine," John grumbled and pulled out his cell phone, dialed his son's number and held it up to his ear for a moment, "Put the girl on."

The younger hunter handed the phone to Bobby, who took it, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Carrie Ann? Are you okay?" he asked, and felt tears well up in his eyes at the sound of his daughter's voice.

"Dad? Dad, what's going on? I'm fine but I don't-"

John grabbed the phone from Bobby and ended the call.

"Josh ain't stupid," Bobby told him, "You know that, right?"

"I know," John replied, moving towards the kitchen, where Bobby's half dozen phones hung from the wall behind the table, "That's why I need you to help with this."

"Call Josh up," John instructed, "And for your daughter's sake, make it believable."

Bobby, glaring daggers at the younger man, picked up the nearest phone from the cradle and punched Josh's number in, waiting as it rang and rang before the hunter answered.

"Yeah?" Josh's familiar voice asked and Bobby started talking.

SPN

Dean didn't know what had his father so excited. John rarely displayed this kind of passion, even when they were close to catching the supernatural threat during a hunt.

The sixteen-year old couldn't be sure but he thought that his father's fervor had started after he'd listened to Richard 'Motormouth' Hawkins blab about some kid another hunter had with him. Dean had no clue why that would get his father foaming at the mouth but John had been especially excited to hear more about Josh's boy, even going so far as to buy Hawkins another beer and egg him on. Old Rufus Turner, who happened to be sitting at the far end of the bar, indulging in his alcohol of choice; Johnnie Walker, had sidled closer to the two men, eavesdropping and then engaging in the topic of discussion himself.

Dean had mostly ignored the conversation. He decided that his father was probably interested in hearing about the newer generation of hunters or whatever, since not many kids were raised in the life.

After gathering all he was going to out of 'Motormouth' John had dropped Dean off at the motel before heading to the library, which was closed at that time of the night. The younger Winchester had asked his father why he suddenly had an urge to hit the books but John had told him not to worry about it and to get some sleep.

Shrugging, Dean hadn't argued, used to John's insistence that most information was on a 'need to know' basis and had lounged around until after midnight when he'd finally called it a night and turned in.

The next morning, John shook his son awake, his dark eyes lively and sparkling with anticipation.

"What's wrong?" the sixteen-year old had asked groggily, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I have a lead on a monster," John informed him, "Grab your stuff; we're leaving."

And that was that. Within five minutes the Winchesters were on the road out of town, Dean driving the Impala, confused and irritated he'd been forced awake at the crack of dawn and John practically giddy in the seat beside him.

"Where are we going, Dad?" Dean asked, glancing at his father.

John, leaning forward as though that would help the Impala move faster, told his son that they were headed to a town called Bridgewater in South Dakota.

And that was it. John offered no more information until they arrived at their destination.

W

"Find Mayberry Crescent," John instructed his son, sitting up taller in his seat.

Dean nodded and turned down the rock music he'd been blasting from the Impala's speakers.

"What are we looking for once we get there?" the sixteen-year old asked.

"I'll let you know when the time calls for it," his father replied cryptically.

Dean sighed and drove down the residential area of Bridgewater until he found the street his father had mentioned.

Inching the Chevy forward at a crawl down the quaint street, the teen jumped when his father told him to stop in front of a brownstone townhouse with a brass number fourteen beside a red door decorated with a wreath of wildflowers. A silver Toyota sat in the driveway, indicating the owner was home.

Parking the Impala at the curb, Dean climbed out of the driver's seat, brows knitted together in confusion.

"Dad, will you tell me what's going on?" he asked, following his father as John stepped out of the car and headed towards the trunk.

Automatically Dean unlocked the trunk and John lifted the false bottom to reveal an array of weaponry. With a moment's pause, the older hunter chose a pistol before returning the fake bottom of the trunk to its proper spot and closing the lid.

"Dad, why do you need a gun?" Dean asked but again, John ignored him and started up the short walk to the front door of number fourteen.

"Let me do the talking," the older hunter instructed his son and slid the hand holding the gun into his open jacket, leaving it there.

Reaching the front door, John nodded to his son and Dean pressed the doorbell.

For a moment nothing happened but then the red door opened and a female face peered out at them from behind the storm door.

"Yes, how can I help you?" the young woman- in her mid- to late twenties if Dean had to guess- asked in a pleasant sounding, though cautious voice.

"Carrie Ann Singer?" John asked and the woman nodded.

Singer? Dean thought, as in Bobby Singer?

Peering at the woman, the sixteen-year old saw that she had wavy, sandy-red hair similar to her father's and blue eyes the colour of cornflowers. Ivory skin and a dusting of freckles over her cheeks and nose completed the picture. She was wearing a sleeveless yellow blouse and white shorts with bare feet.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" John asked, "It's about your father."

The woman's blue eyes narrowed, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

John smiled, "Just friends. Can we come in and talk?"

"I don't think so," Carrie Ann began but froze when the elder Winchester pulled the gun from his jacket and pointed it at her through the screen door.

"Please open the door," John said, "I don't want to have to shoot you."

"Dad-" Dean began, eyes wide in shock but John put his free hand on his son's arm and squeezed, hard.

"I don't want to hurt you," John continued, keeping his dark eyes pinned to the woman's face, "But I will if you don't listen."

Carrie Ann, her ivory complexion now the colour of spoiled milk, nodded and unlatched the screen door.

"Thank you," John said and grabbed the side of the door with his free hand, releasing his hold on Dean.

Before the hunter could step inside though, the heavy red door was pushed towards him and the hunter's fingers were jammed in between the two doors and the doorjamb.

John swore out loud but pressed onward, using his bulk to shove the storm door out of the way and push back on the red door.

From inside the house, Dean heard Carrie Ann cry out but he didn't know if it was from fear or pain.

Forcing his way into the house, John lifted the hand with the gun and struck the woman across the face, sending her to the floor.

"Dad!" Dean gasped and hurried forward toward the injured woman, "What are you doing?"

"I warned her, Dean," John told him.

The sixteen-year old peered down at Carrie Ann, her blue eyes wide and wet, one hand pressed to the side of her face.

"Get her up," John instructed and Dean helped the young woman carefully to her feet, apologizing to her for his father's actions.

"What do you want?" the young woman asked, blood dripping down her face from a gash in her cheek, the skin around it already beginning to swell and turn black.

"If you want money, take it," she told them, "Jewelry too."

John shook his head, "We don't want any of that."

Carrie Ann swallowed and Dean could see fear in her eyes.

"Bring her in here, Dean," John instructed and the sixteen-year old led the woman into a small windowless room off of the kitchen that looked as though it was Carrie Ann's office.

The elder Winchester pulled out the desk chair and told the woman to sit in it. She did, mopping the side of her face with her hand.

"We don't really want you," John told Carrie Ann, keeping the gun in his hand trained on her chest, "But I have some business with your father and I know he won't be very cooperative."

"So you're going to use me to get to him," the young woman finished.

John nodded, "Exactly."

He handed the gun to Dean, "Keep it pointed at her at all times. If she tries to get away or scream for help, shoot her."

The sixteen-year old took the gun and only stared at his father in disbelief, his eyes as wide and round as Carrie Ann's.

"If everything goes as planned," John told her, "We'll be out of your lives in a matter of hours and you'll never see us again."

The young woman didn't look convinced but nodded grimly.

"I just have one favour to ask," the elder Winchester asked, "Where do you keep your car keys?"

Carrie Ann set her jaw and didn't speak for a moment. Then her gaze traveled to the gun pointed at her and she answered: "I keep them in the bowl on the kitchen table."

"Thank you," John replied and grinned.

"Remember Dean," he turned to his son, "If she tries anything-"

"I got it, Dad," the sixteen-year old replied stiffly, recoiling at the thought of shooting an innocent woman.

Before leaving the room, John lifted his uninjured hand to his son's shoulder and squeezed.

SPN

John gripped the steering wheel of the little silver Toyota so tightly his knuckles were white.

Everything was going to plan. In just a few hours that little monster would be heading into his trap.

The hunter smiled, lips pulling away from teeth in a sardonic sneer.

He'd finally get revenge on the monster that had killed his wife. And this time, he wouldn't hesitate. There would be no mistakes.

John's heart began to pound in his chest at the thought of finally knowing that his wife's killer was dead.

"Soon Mary," he murmured, "Soon…"

SPN

Minutes ticked by in silence. The only sound was the ticking of the 'Felix the Cat' clock on the wall above the desk and the sound of the boy and woman breathing.

Dean, confused and stunned by his father's actions, felt he had to show Carrie Ann that they weren't bad people. That they were killers or robbers or rapists.

"I didn't know he was going to do that," he told her.

"Do what?" Carrie Ann asked, "Force his way into my house or pistol whip me?"

Dean cringed, "Both. He didn't even tell me who you were or anything. I'm sorry he did that to you. He's normally not like that. He doesn't hurt civilians."

Carrie Ann gave him a cynical look but said nothing.

"What does he want with my Dad?"

Dean shrugged, "He didn't tell me that either."

The two lapsed into silence for a moment, neither daring to take their eyes off the other.

"Bobby Singer really is your father?" Dean asked and the young woman nodded.

"Unfortunately," she commented, gently pressing her fingers experimentally against the swelling on her face.

"He never said anything about having a kid," Dean told her, "I always thought he was on his own."

Carrie Ann let out a humourless laugh.

"He is on his own," she told him, "I haven't talked to him in years."

Carefully, Dean ventured, "Not since your Mom died?"

The woman nodded, "Yeah."

"You know it wasn't really her, right?" Dean asked, "Your Mom was possessed by a demon."

Carrie Ann narrowed her eyes, "You believe him too?"

"You don't?" the sixteen-year old asked.

She shook her head slightly, "He always had a weakness for booze. I always thought it'd get him into trouble and look what happened. I was at school that day. Dad came home early from work and got shitfaced and then shot Mom."

Dean's eyes were wide, "That's wrong. Your Mom was possessed by a demon. Bobby didn't know how to get rid of it and he..."

Carrie Ann laughed coldly.

"How would you know? You weren't there," she asked.

"Neither were you," Dean snapped. He felt as though he needed to defend Bobby's honour, even if it was from his own daughter.

"That's right," Carrie Ann agreed, "I wasn't. But I did come home and find her. She was lying in the hallway, covered in blood. At first I thought someone had robbed the place but then I found Dad in the living room, drinking beer. With the gun sitting on the coffee table."

"I was so scared," she continued, "I thought he was going to kill me too. So I ran. I ran all the way back into town and told anyone who would listen what I'd found."

Dean couldn't imagine what that must have been like, to find your mother dead.

"So the Sheriff's department took my father into custody and he kept saying that he had only killed Mom in self-defense, said she'd gone crazy and that there had been something inside her that was making her attack him."

Dean listened in silence.

"They finally let him off on self-defense," Carrie Ann continued, "But things were never the same after that."

"What do you mean?" the sixteen-year old asked.

"Dad kept drinking," the woman told him, "And he was always talking about the 'thing' that had been inside Mom. My friends didn't want to hang out with me anymore and I became the girl whose dad was a murderer. Once I left high school I knew I couldn't stay in Sioux Falls anymore. I left and ended up here. Where no one knew who I was, or more importantly, who my father was."

"I'm sorry," Dean murmured, sincerely.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Carrie Ann asked, "You didn't do anything."

The sixteen-year old lifted his green eyes to the young woman's blue ones, "I'm sorry you've blinded yourself to the truth."

SPN

"Where are we going, Josh?" Mouse asked, his hazel eyes wide and questioning.

The hunter smiled, "We're going on a little break, son. Just the two of us. How does that sound?"

The boy, instead of returning his uncle's smile, frowned.

"Is something wrong? Are we in danger? You have to tell me!"

The hunter sighed and pulled the pickup truck onto the gravel shoulder, aware that they were not safe but needing to pay attention to talk to the boy.

"Yes, Mouse," Josh said, "We are in danger."

"What?" the twelve-year old exclaimed, "Why?"

"I can't explain it right now," Josh told him, "But I want to know that I will do everything I can to protect you. Okay? I won't let you get hurt. I promise you."

Mouse, his eyes welling with tears, nodded and didn't ask his uncle anymore questions as they headed out of Sioux Falls as though the Devil himself were chasing them.

SPN

Josh wondered if he'd done the right thing by not telling the boy about his father.

No, he had. Telling Mouse about John Winchester would only confuse and terrify him more. Maybe once they reached Rufus' cabin he'd tell the boy the truth, but right now he couldn't.

Glancing to his right, he saw the boy curled up on the bench seat, staring out the window.

"It's pretty quiet in here," Josh said, "Would you like some music?"

Mouse didn't respond.

The hunter reached out and turned on the radio, turning the dial to find a station that wasn't just static.

Smiling grimly, Josh paused in his search when he heard the beginning guitar chords of Led Zeppelin's 'Ramble On' and left the station where it was.

SPN

"Mouse? Wake up, son," Josh's voice drew the boy up from the embrace of sleep.

"We're here," his uncle told him and the child sat up in his seat, peering through the pickup's windshield at the hulking cabin sitting in front of them, surrounded by trees.

It had been a long drive; the only stops made for gas, bathroom breaks, trips past drive-thru windows and a grocery store to gather supplies for the cabin.

"Cool," Mouse said, and meant it. The cabin was a construction of wood beams for walls and a corrugated tin roof. There was a wrap-around porch and a stone well in front of the building.

"It's rustic," Josh told him, "No running water, no TV, or electricity. Hopefully we won't have to stay for long."

"It'll be like camping," Mouse spoke up and climbed out of the truck, shuffling his sneaker-clad feet through the leaf litter on the ground.

"Yeah, I guess it will," Josh agreed and picked up Mouse's duffle bag. In his hurry to go help Bobby, he hadn't thought about bringing his own piece of luggage with him but that didn't matter. They could stay here for a few days before moving on.

Mouse followed his uncle into the cabin and took in the kitchen with a wood burning stove, two large metal basins for washing dishes and small table. There was no refrigerator, microwave or oven.

"This'll be your room," Josh was saying from down the hall and the boy followed the sound of his uncle's voice to a tiny nice where a pinewood bunk bed had been crammed and a narrow wardrobe. Both the top and bottom bunks had thick woolen blankets draped over the mattresses to keep the cold out at night. A window showed a view of the forest pressed right up against the back of the cabin, a maple tree's bright green leaves plastered against the thick glass.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Mouse asked.

"Oh, I'll just hunker down on the couch in the den," Josh commented, dropping his nephew's duffle onto the lower bunk.

Beside the small bedroom was an equally small bathroom with an ancient claw foot bathtub and another large metal basin.

"Um, Josh, if there's no running water, how are we supposed to bathe?" the twelve-year old asked, eyeing the tub and noticing a lack of toilet.

"We boil water on the stove and dump it into the tub," Josh told him, "Pretty medieval, right?"

"Yeah," Mouse agreed, "Is there an outhouse here?"

The hunter scratched his stubbly chin, "Should be behind the house. Though the woods have probably taken over it by now."

Mouse's eyes widened.

"Don't worry, Kiddo," Josh smiled, "We'll be all right."

No wonder Rufus didn't come here all that often anymore, the hunter thought, before asking Mouse to help him unload the groceries from the back of the pickup truck.

SPN

"Dad, would you please tell me what's going on now?" Dean almost begged his father as they pulled away from Bobby's house in the Impala; John insisting on driving this time.

"We're chasing a monster," the elder Winchester replied.

"Okay," Dean said; that wasn't a completely unheard of answer, "But what does that monster have to do with Bobby or his daughter?"

"Bobby knew about it and didn't tell me," John ground out, "He knew all along and never said anything."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. As a hunter, surely Bobby would alert others if a monster were nearby.

"What do you mean 'all along'? How long has he known about this monster?"

"It's the bastard that killed your mother, son," John told him, "The one that took Mary away from us."

The sixteen-year old's mouth dropped open in shock.

Dean hadn't heard his father talk about the creature that had killed his wife in years, not since he was a little kid, anyway.

Not since Sammy had been snatched.

After the fire destroyed the upper levels of the Winchester house and killed its matriarch, John had wandered aimlessly for a year, dragging his two sons along with him. Dean recalled his father talking about a monster that had killed Mary, and how he was going to get his revenge.

Nearly a year after the fire that had changed the Winchesters' lives forever, John and his sons had gone into a small gas station in Ohio to pick up some snacks and pay for fuel for the car. John let his youngest son, Sam- almost a year old at the time- out of his sight for no more than a minute when he'd turned to look at the potato chips the store offered. Turning back, the father had been shocked and frightened to find his young son was no longer where he had left him. The infant, starting to walk though not quite steady on his feet yet, may have wandered away and John and Dean searched the remaining aisles of the store frantically. Realizing his son was nowhere to be found, John had asked the cashier to call the police and within hours every available cop in the area was on a lookout for the baby.

Sam Winchester was never found.

As the hours grew into days grew into weeks, the search for the missing boy became more frantic and less promising.

After two weeks of searching, the police called an end to the investigation and told the grief-stricken father that there was no chance of finding his son, let alone finding him alive.

Dean had been devastated. Crying nonstop for hours after his father told him Sammy was never coming back, moping for weeks, refusing to engage in the activities he'd previously enjoyed.

Until John had shown him how to shoot a gun, exorcise a demon, and defend himself from physical attacks.

John had stopped talking about the monster that had killed Mary after Sam had disappeared and Dean decided it was because the search for his missing son had taken priority over finding his wife's killer.

But, as Dean thought back, he couldn't recall his father ever mentioning again, the creature that had taken Mary's life that fateful night in early November.

"What is it?" Dean asked now, glancing at his father from the corner of his eye, "What killed Mom?"

John, without taking his gaze from the road ahead, answered, "It looks human but it isn't. You need to know that. It is not human and never was. It started the fire that killed your mother all those years ago."

"Is it a demon?" Dean asked, "A shapeshifter? Skinwalker?"

John shook his head, "There's no name for it. It's an abomination."

SPN

"Can I go explore the woods?" Mouse asked once all the groceries had been put away, mainly cans and jars because of the lack of refrigeration.

"I don't know, Mouse," Josh hesitated, "I'd like to be able to keep an eye on you."

"I won't go far," the twelve-year old told his uncle, his hazel eyes wide and moist, "Please."

The hunter smiled, unable to resist the boy's 'puppy-dog eyes'.

"All right," he said, "But stay within sight of the cabin."

"I will!" Mouse exclaimed, "Thanks!"

"An' come back right away if I call you!" Josh called to the boy who was already out the door and running down the porch steps.

W

Feet hitting the leaf-strewn driveway, Mouse looked around, wondering where he should explore first.

Although he knew Josh had said they were in some sort of danger, the twelve-year old didn't want to be cooped up in the cabin all day, especially when it had no TV or radio, so he told himself that he'd play outside, near the building so he could run back to Josh if anything happened and still have a sense of freedom.

Deciding that he wanted to find the outhouse before he had an emergency, Mouse walked around to the back of the cabin, kicking pine cones out of his way as he did so.

The forest had certainly taken over the cabin's backyard in the years Rufus' had left the structure empty- if the cabin had even had a backyard in the first place- and Mouse found himself squeezing between closely growing trees, stepping over vines and roots, listening to the chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects.

It didn't take Mouse long to find the outhouse. Or what was left of it. The narrow wooden structure had been taken over by saplings, its door hanging off rusted hinges, a young oak tree poking out through the crescent-shaped window in the cracked wood. The twelve-year old approached the outhouse and peered inside. There was a wooden seat with a round hole cut into the middle of it, saplings sprouting from inside the reservoir, nourished by the natural manure found there.

The boy smirked; there was no way he was going to go to the bathroom in that. With his luck, he'd end up wiping with poison ivy.

A sudden scratching sound from inside the outhouse startled the boy after listening to the quiet of the forest and Mouse took a step back. A grey squirrel jumped out of the hole and bound past the boy, chittering.

Relieved, Mouse laughed at the momentary fear he'd felt.

The twelve-year old looked up sharply at the sound of car tires crushing leaves and the growl of approaching engines.

Who was coming to the cabin? Mouse wondered, his heart beating quickly in his narrow chest; was it Rufus?

Car doors slammed and unfamiliar voices shouted.

"Joseph Trapp! We know you're in there! This is the Whitefish Police Department! Come out with your hands up!"

SPN

"Stay in the car," John instructed his son, peering at the sixteen-year old through the window.

"Dad, we've been driving for hours," Dean argued, "Can't I just stretch my legs?"

"I'll only be a moment," John told him, "Stay in the car, Dean."

The sixteen-year old nodded and sighed, telling himself his dad wouldn't tell him what to do like a child if it wasn't important.

Leaning forward, Dean glanced momentarily at the building that housed the Whitefish Police Department, before searching for a radio station with classic rock music.

SPN

"Josh," Mouse breathed and crashed through the trees towards the front of the cabin, "Josh!"

In his rush to get to his uncle, the boy tripped and fell, scraping his chin on the ground and causing it to bleed. Wiping a hand over the wound, Mouse stood and peered down at the red streak across his knuckles for a moment before he continued on, calling his uncle's name.

The police continued yelling at the hunter, clearly not happy at being ignored and their demands began more threatening.

"Joshua Trapp! Come out now or we will be forced to come in and bring you out!"

Mouse shouted his uncle's name and rounded the side of the cabin, taking in the cruisers and four officers, two standing on the porch in front of the door, two remaining in the driveway.

"JOSH!" the boy cried and tried to run past the police officers but strong hands grabbed him and held him.

"No! Let me go! Josh! Josh!"

"It's all right, son," a police officer with a blond handlebar moustache and light brown eyes spoke to him.

"Josh! Let me go! He's my uncle! Josh!"

The hunter finally exited the cabin; hands held high, a sad look on his face.

"Joshua Trapp," one of the cops on the porch said, "You're under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping and unlawful confinement."

"No! No!" Mouse cried and struggled against the officer's hold as his uncle was handcuffed.

"Josh!" the boy called, "Let him go! He didn't do anything!"

The cop with the handlebar moustache began tugging on Mouse's arm and the boy flailed frantically, trying to get to his uncle.

The second police officer who had been standing on the driveway pulled out his handcuffs and closed them around Mouse's wrists, cuffing his hands in front of him.

"Josh! Don't go!" the boy cried.

"It'll be okay, Kiddo," his uncle told him before he was made to sit in the back of a police cruiser.

Mouse watched in shock as the cops climbed into their car, started the engine and headed down the driveway.

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

"C'mon son," the cop with the handlebar moustache said and guided the boy towards the back of his own police car, "Watch your head. There, just like that."

Mouse sat in the backseat of the cruiser, staring at the backs of the cops' heads as they too began to move down the driveway.

"He didn't do anything," the boy muttered, "He didn't hurt anybody."

The cops didn't hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a song by the band, Daughter.  
> Carrie Ann, the name I chose for Bobby's estranged daughter, is the first name of the actress who played Karen Singer in S.5, E.15 (Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid) and S.7, E. 10 (Death's Door).  
> Please leave comment or kudos if you are enjoying the story!


	6. The Ties That Bind

"Where are you taking me?" Mouse asked the police officers who were driving him away from the cabin and his uncle.

The twelve-year old had no idea what was going to happen to him now that Josh had been arrested. As far as he knew, he had no other family.

"We're going to Child Protective Services," the cop with the handlebar moustache told him, "They'll give you a place to stay for the night."

The cruiser headed into the town of Whitefish but Mouse barely noticed. All he could think about was Josh, arrested for crimes he most certainly had not committed. Why was Josh being accused of kidnapping and unlawful confinement? And who had told the police?

W

The boy startled when the car stopped twenty minutes later in front of a two-story redbrick building that's only decoration was a white sign with blue text reading 'CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES, WHITEFISH'.

The cop without the handlebar moustache opened Mouse's door and uncuffed the boy's hands. Mouse stepped out and the two cops led him into the building.

The first area they entered looked like the waiting room of a dentist or doctor's office, with a receptionist's desk, chairs against the walls and generic prints of flowers on walls painted a mint green.

Mouse sat down in one of the plastic chairs as the cops talked to the woman behind the desk for what seemed like forever before they too took seats on either side of the boy to wait for whatever was going to happen next.

The sound of footsteps drew the twelve-year old's attention and a woman stepped out of the hallway beside the reception desk. She was wearing a dark blue pantsuit and low black heels. She smiled as she approached Mouse and the police officers.

Kneeling down so as to be eye-level with the boy, she introduced herself.

"Hello," she said in a soft voice, "My name is Chandra Patel but you can just call me Chandra."

Mouse didn't reply.

"I'm going to find you a family to stay with tonight, okay?" Chandra asked and held out a hand to the boy.

After a moment's hesitation, Mouse took her hand, surprised how soft and warm it was.

The boy followed her down the hallway and past offices. At the end of the hall was a bank of elevators. Chandra pressed the button to call one and waited, still holding Mouse's hand.

"Why did my uncle get arrested? He didn't do anything wrong," Mouse asked the woman.

Chandra peered down at the boy with dark brown eyes, "I'm sorry I don't know."

The elevator doors opened and woman and boy stepped into the lift.

"I don't want to go to some new family," Mouse told her, "I want to stay with Josh."

"It will just be for one night," Chandra told him as the elevator took them to the second floor of the building.

The elevator stopped and its doors opened to reveal a hallway that was much more child-friendly than the waiting area on the first floor.

The hallway was covered in a carpet of red, yellow and blue; the walls were lavender with child's drawings framed on them.

Mouse followed Chandra down the hallway and peered into a large room with an immense glass window showing an interior specifically designed with children in mind. The floor was durable hard wood with area rugs in bright colours strewn about; there were child-sized tables, chairs, and couches. A television set was playing cartoons in the corner and there were multiple shelves of books and boards games and toys.

There were also children inside, playing, or colouring or watching TV, seeming not to notice Chandra or Mouse standing outside.

The woman opened the glass door and led the boy into the room.

"You're welcome to stay here and play until I can find a family for you to stay with, okay?" Chandra asked but the boy didn't reply.

"I will be back later," she told him and left the room.

Almost instantly another adult, a woman with busy orange hair and large freckles covering every inch of exposed skin, approached the boy.

"Hi there," she greeted in a loud voice, "I'm Taylor. What's your name?"

Mouse didn't say anything.

"What would you like to do?" Taylor asked, "We have TV or books?"

Mouse shook his head.

"Or you could play a board game with another child?"

Again Mouse refused.

"Do you want to draw or paint?"

The twelve-year old didn't answer but walked away from the woman without speaking, ignoring everything around him and sitting down on a pink beanbag chair in a corner of the room.

SPN

Josh sat silently in his holding cell, thinking about Mouse.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who had called the Whitefish PD; John must have known they were heading to Rufus' cabin.

That meant Bobby or Rufus had told John about Mouse- er, Sam- still being alive. The thought that either one of those men could betray him made Josh's blood boil. He had trusted them! For years he had trusted him with the secret that John's youngest son was still alive and they had gone and stabbed him in the back!

He didn't really care about being in jail- no, he could handle that- but what he couldn't deal with was being separated from the boy he had raised as his own for eleven years.

With no relatives of his own, Josh wondered where Mouse was going to end up. Was he here at the police station or with CPS for the night? Or, god forbid, had John stepped up yet to claim the boy as his own by now?

Josh shuddered at that last thought. If John had Mouse, the boy didn't stand a chance, he may be dead already.

"Bobby, you bastard," Josh growled, "How could you? He's just a little boy."

The hunter leaned his head back against the cinderblock wall; it was going to be a long night.

SPN

Mouse looked up when he saw feet appear in his field of vision.

He had not moved from his spot on the beanbag chair for what felt like hours, legs drawn up and his cheek resting against one knee.

He ignored the other children and the adults, and they pretty much ignored him. Not that he cared, he didn't want to play or watch TV or draw a picture anyway.

"Luke," Chandra's voice said, "This is Peter and Kelly, they are going to give you a place to stay tonight."

Mouse looked up and stared into the foster parents' faces. They smiled at him but he didn't smile back.

The woman, though clearly middle-aged, had tanned skin, blonde hair, brown eyes but a kind face, crouched down in front of him.

"Hi Luke," she said, "It's nice to meet you."

"Mouse," Mouse replied.

"What's that?" Kelly asked, still smiling.

"I like Mouse," he told her, "Not Luke. No one calls me Luke."

"Okay, Mouse, if that's what you want," Peter said in a deep, gregarious voice.

"They are nice people, Luke," Chandra told the boy, "They've been working with us for many years."

"I don't want to go with them," Mouse told her, "I want to go be with Josh."

Peter and Kelly looked to Chandra.

"It will only be for one night," Chandra reminded him but Mouse wasn't stupid. If Josh had been arrested, he probably wasn't going to be let out of jail anytime soon. Mouse knew about bail and those kinds of things so he didn't think he'd just be living with Peter and Kelly for one night.

"C'mon Sport," Peter encouraged, "We don't bite."

The foster parents laughed as though it was some kind of joke but Mouse just sighed and stood, not wanting to get in trouble.

Kelly stepped back and smiled at him.

Mouse followed the adults as they left the room- Taylor called a 'goodbye' to him but he ignored her- and stepped out into the hall.

"Do you like pizza, Sport?" Pete asked Mouse and the boy shrugged.

"I guess," the twelve-year old answered.

"We can order a pizza for dinner," Pete told him, "How does that sound?"

"Fine," Mouse muttered.

Chandra followed them all the way down the hall and into the elevator. She smiled down at the boy but he turned away from her happy expression.

Why was all this happening? He hadn't done anything wrong and he didn't think Josh had either. Was he ever going to see his uncle again? Just the thought of never seeing the hunter again brought tears to Mouse's eyes and he used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes, hoping none of the adults saw.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out.

"It was nice meeting you, Luke- er, Mouse," Chandra said, pausing as though she expected the boy to say that he thought it was nice to meet her too.

Although not generally rude- Josh had taught him better than that- Mouse didn't think it was nice to have met Chandra, considering the circumstances.

"We'd better get going," Kelly interrupted and took Mouse by the hand.

The twelve-year old pulled his hand from the woman's but said nothing.

He followed the two foster parents as they walked out of the building and to their car that was parked out front.

Mouse climbed into the back seat as Peter settled behind the wheel and Kelly rode shotgun.

"Don't forget your seat belt," Kelly told him from over her shoulder.

The drive was silent for the most part, punctuated by Kelly and Peter asking Mouse generic questions:

"What did he like on his pizza?"

He liked anchovies and mushrooms.

"Did he like soda?"

No, he didn't really drink soda.

"What TV shows did he like to watch?"

His uncle didn't have a television.

"Did he have a favourite movie?"

He liked the one he'd just gone to see with Josh a couple of days ago.

"What were his favourite subjects in school?"

He liked English and History.

"Where did he go to school?"

His uncle home-schooled him.

And on and on and on…

"Here we are!" Kelly announced cheerily as they pulled into the driveway of a beige-sandstone bungalow with a dark brown roof and matching shutters on the widows. Flourishing flower gardens added a splash of colour to the property.

Peter and Kelly got out of the car first and then Mouse, the boy eyeing the house somewhat skeptically.

Mouse followed the two adults as they walked up the driveway towards the cement porch of the house where two wicker chairs and a small table sat. A basketball net, worn and tattered by the elements, though still functional, hung above the garage doors.

"Do you have kids?" the twelve-year old finally asked a question of his own.

"We have a son," Peter answered, "And a daughter."

"Tiffany is away at college; her first year," Kelly continued, "But Austin is here."

Peter opened the front door and stepped inside, Mouse following and Kelly bringing up the rear.

"Hey Austin, we're back!" Peter called and Mouse heard the blare of music suddenly sound from deeper into the house before it was quieted and footsteps approached.

The boy was clearly a few years older than Mouse- in high school- and tall. He seemed to tower over the twelve-year old. He had pale blond hair and equally pale blue eyes. Wearing a basketball jersey and a pair of old jeans, he appeared casual but the younger boy could sense a tension in him.

"Hey," Austin greeted casually.

"Mouse is going to stay with us tonight," Kelly told him.

Austin smirked, "Mouse? That's your name?"

"Be nice," Peter cautioned and Kelly nodded, laying a hand on the twelve-year old's shoulder.

"It's just for tonight," Kelly repeated.

"Whatever," Austin sighed, "Just as long as he doesn't bother me."

With that, the teen turned and headed back into the rear of the house.

"He's really a nice boy," Kelly told Mouse, "It just takes him time to warm up to people."

Mouse didn't say anything. He didn't think Austin was going to be doing any 'warming up'; the older boy clearly did not like him.

"Why don't you go into the living room and watch some TV while we wait for the pizza to arrive?" Kelly offered and the boy hesitated.

"It's this way," Peter said and brought him to the living room.

Tentatively, Mouse sat down on the couch and stared around the room. Photographs of Austin holding various trophies and a girl who was most likely Tiffany, adorned the walls smiling down at the twelve-year old.

Mouse tore his gaze away from the pictures and shuddered. It seemed as though the pale blue eyes of Austin and his sister- who also had the same platinum hair as her brother, as well- were looking at him and disapproving of his intrusion into their home.

Peter and Kelly, clearly well off, had a big screen TV, a state-of-the art stereo system and what looked like a brand new VHS player all sitting on a wooden television stand. On either side of the stand was a collection of CDs on the left and videocassettes on the right.

Searching for the television remote, Mouse frowned when he peered into the basket sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch and sat five different remotes.

Sighing, the boy reached down to the low shelf attached to the bottom of the coffee table and picked up a magazine, flipping through the pages without really reading them.

SPN

John Winchester parked the Impala down the street from Peter and Kelly's house, making sure he had a clear view of the front lawn.

Dean, sitting beside him in the passenger's seat, frowned. He'd been in a mood ever since picking his father up from Bobby's house.

"What are we doing here, Dad?" the teen asked, eyeing the street ahead of him warily.

"The monster I was telling you about," John said, "Is in that house."

He pointed to a beige bungalow with a dark brown roof and basketball net above the garage door.

Dean leaned forward in order to get a better view of the dwelling.

"Why? Is it going to attack the people inside?"

John shook his head, "I don't think so. They probably don't even know there's a monster with them."

"Than why are we sitting here?" Dean asked. He was very confused about this whole thing and he hated it. He didn't like when his father chose to only hand him information in bits and pieces.

"I need to think," the older hunter replied.

Sighing, the sixteen-year old reached out to turn on the radio when his father smacked his hand away.

Eyeing John, Dean crossed his arms and stared out of the side window, irritated about his father's evasiveness.

SPN

"Pizza's here!" Mouse heard Pete shout from the front of the house and put the magazine he had been flipping through back onto the shelf beneath the coffee table.

As Mouse left the living room and made his way slowly towards the kitchen, Austin, barreling down the hallway from his bedroom waylaid the boy.

"Get out of my way!" the older teenager snapped, shoving the twelve-year old into the wall.

Not so much hurt as stunned, Mouse remained where he was for a long moment, his back pressed against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Mouse?" Kelly's voice called from the direction of the kitchen.

"Mouse? The pizza's here."

The boy didn't move.

"There you are!" Kelly exclaimed as she approached him, "Didn't you hear Pete calling?"

Mouse swallowed and shook his head.

Kelly frowned, her thin eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"I must have had the TV on too loud," Mouse told her quickly.

His answer seemed to placate the woman and she smiled at him.

"Peter got you a pizza all to yourself, with anchovies and mushrooms," she told him and Mouse stared at her, surprised to be treated to a pizza all his own. Whenever his uncle ordered pizza, he usually just got an extra large, half his preferred toppings and half Mouse's.

The twelve-year old followed Kelly out into the kitchen, where her husband and son were already sitting at the table.

Peter looked up as Mouse took the seat to his right, not willing to sit beside Austin.

"We got you a bottle of Gatorade," he told the boy as his wife took a seat beside their son.

"We know you says you didn't like soda," Kelly added, taking a slice of vegetarian pizza as she did.

"Thanks," Mouse muttered, picking up the bottle of neon yellow lemon/lime flavoured sports drink.

"Have some pizza," Kelly said, "We bought you your own."

"Okay," the boy replied and took a piece of mushroom and anchovy pizza.

Although he wasn't really hungry, Mouse took a small bite, chewing slowly. He noticed that both Pete and Kelly were staring at him with expectant expressions.

"Oh…um," swallowing the pizza, the boy remembered his thanked the couple for the food.

Kelly and Pete continued to eat their pizza as though nothing had happened, talking with their son about his day.

Mouse sat his piece of pizza down on his plate. He was starting to feel sick to his stomach.

"Mouse, are you all right? You're not eating?" Kelly asked and the twelve-year old shook his head, "I'm not really feeling good. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she simpered, "If you're not feeling good you're not feeling good."

"Why don't you head upstairs and call it an early night?" Peter suggested.

Before Mouse could speak, Kelly stood, "I'll show you where you'll sleep."

The boy followed Kelly out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Mouse was surprised when the woman turned the light on in a room to the right to reveal what was clearly Austin's bedroom. One side of the room was coated in posters of athletes, baseball and basketball players, soccer players and the teen's numerous trophies and medals. The far side of the room was untouched, with a single bed pushed up against a clean, white wall.

"This is your bed," Kelly stepped over a soiled basketball shirt to get to the far side of the room and turn down the blankets on the mattress.

"Okay," Mouse replied. He wasn't sure how he felt about sharing a room with Austin. Though he was used to living in close quarters with another person- the trailer he and his uncle lived in wasn't even as big as this bedroom- he knew the teenager didn't like him and probably wouldn't welcome him into his bedroom under normal circumstances.

"The bathroom is just down the hall on the same side and our room is on the left if you need anything," Kelly told him before making her way to the doorway and pausing, "Goodnight."

Mouse bade her a good night and watched as she slipped away from the doorframe and back down the hall. For a moment the boy remained where he was before crossing to the light switch, pushing it into the off position with his thumb and stepping carefully over Austin's clothes to the guest bed. Lying down on his back, the twelve-year old stared up at the ceiling, missing his uncle and listening to the sounds of conversation and laughter coming from the kitchen through the open doorway.

W

Mouse startled awake at the sound of the bedroom door closing with a loud snick sound. For a moment he blinked in the darkness, confused and disoriented, before he felt a sudden weight pressing down heavily on top of him and a warm, slightly moist hand clamped down on his mouth.

"Listen up, kid," Austin's voice hissed in his ear, the teen's breath hot on the side of his face, "Just because you're staying in my room doesn't mean we're friends. The only reason you're in here is because there's no other place for a bed in the house, get it?"

Mouse nodded his head as much as he could with Austin's hand plastered across his face.

"If you do anything to bug me," the teen continued, "Whimper or cry or even breathe too loudly, I will kill you."

The boy's eyes widened at the threat, not sure Austin was being serious and unable to believe he wasn't.

"Do you understand?" the teen pressed down with his hand, shoving the back of Mouse's head against the pillow.

Again, the boy nodded.

"Good," Austin growled and released his hold on the boy.

Mouse didn't move until he heard the teen move to the far side of the room. He was sure that if Austin really wante to hurt him, he'd be able to defend himself… but he knew that wouldn't go over well with Peter and Kelly and maybe get him into big trouble. Rolling over onto his side, he watched as Austin sat down at the desk beside his bed, turned on his computer, put on headphones and proceeded to begin playing a rather violent game.

The boy stared at the teenager's back, the light from the computer screen illuminating the room slightly as Austin shot enemy soldiers as calmly as if he were doing his chores.

Mouse couldn't help but shudder to himself and hoped that he wouldn't have to stay with this family for longer than the woman at the CPS building said he would.

W

Mouse felt as though he'd just closed his eyes when he was awoken by the sound of his roommate moving around the bedroom.

Sliding his eyes open, the twelve-year old watched as Austin stepped over the piles of clothing scattered across the floor before choosing a yellow basketball jersey with the name of a famous player printed in purple block letters across the back and a pair of jean shorts.

The teenager said nothing as he dressed and Mouse wasn't sure Austin knew he was awake. Once the older boy had left the room, leaving the door ajar, Mouse sat up and rubbed his hands with his eyes.

He had no day what lay for him in the day ahead. Kelly and Pete had told him he was only going to be staying with them for one night and he had no clue where he was going to end up by the evening.

Deciding that he should get up and see what the family was doing. Standing up and crossing the bedroom- careful not to step on Austin's clothes- Mouse ran his finger through his longish hair to get rid of the knots and went into the hallway.

At first he thought no one was awake but Austin and himself but then the dark, nutty scent of coffee wafted towards him and Mouse knew Peter and Kelly must be up.

Walking quietly into the kitchen, the twelve-year old did indeed find Kelly and Peter awake, reading newspapers, looking through flyers and drinking coffee.

"Where's Austin?" Mouse asked, not seeing the teen in the room.

"He's just outside in the driveway practicing his basketball skills," Kelly told the boy without looking up from her flyers.

"Okay," the boy muttered and sat down at the table with the couple.

The minutes ticked by, Mouse sitting quietly, watching Peter and Kelly reading and talking to one another.

The twelve-year old wasn't sure if he should say anything to the couple but he was rescued when Peter stood up and walked out of the kitchen and to the front door to call Austin in for breakfast.

Kelly put her flyers away and stood as well.

"What would you like for breakfast?" she asked Mouse.

"Do you have cereal?" he asked and the woman nodded, "We have granola."

"Okay," Mouse said and Kelly brought bowls, the box of cereal, milk and spoons.

Austin barged into the kitchen, sweating and breathing heavily as though he'd just run a marathon.

He sat down in his father's vacated seat, grabbed the box of cereal and poured a heaping pile of granola into his bowl.

Peter took a seat beside Mouse and poured himself a bowl of granola before passing the box of cereal to his wife. Mouse was last to get the cereal and when he poured the granola into his bowl, he ended up with the small crumbly, dusty bits at the bottom of the box.

Not one to complain, the boy added milk into his cereal and ate it quietly.

Just as the boy had had only three bites of cereal, the doorbell rang and Peter stood, walking out of the kitchen.

"They must be here already," Kelly said out loud, indicating someone from Child Protective Services to take Mouse to another foster family.

Mouse set his spoon in his bowl as Peter returned, "They're waiting for you."

The boy stood up and walked towards the front door. He didn't hurry; he didn't want to end up with another group of strangers, but knew he didn't have any choice.

Looking up at the figure standing in the doorway, however, Mouse began running forward in excitement.

"Josh!"

The boy's uncle smiled and reached out, catching Mouse as he wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"Why are you here? How are you here?" the boy asked, catching sight of a police officer standing at the end of the driveway.

"They didn't have enough evidence to keep me," the hunter told the little boy, unable to keep from grinning.

"So we can go back home?" Mouse asked.

"Yeah, kiddo, we can go back home," the hunter replied, his smile still on his face but now not as wide as before.

"C'mon, Officer Higgins is going to take us back to the cabin," Josh told him and Mouse followed his uncle to the police cruiser.

The officer opened the rear door for hunter and the boy and Mouse climbed into the vehicle, Josh sliding in after him.

The boy smiled, exceptionally happy and relieved. He had thought he wouldn't see his uncle again and now Josh was saying the police couldn't keep him. Of course they couldn't find evidence against Josh; he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Were those people nice to you?" the hunter asked and Mouse nodded.

"Oh good," Josh said, "I was worried about that."

They didn't talk much more while they were driven to the cabin. Mouse didn't want to talk about Austin and Josh didn't want to talk about his night in jail. The silence wasn't awkward, both boy and man were happy and relieved to be reunited and that was all that they needed at the moment.

SPN

"Thanks," Josh muttered to Officer Higgins as the policeman opened the door of his car to let them out, the cabin sitting before them in welcoming golden light.

The officer nodded, closing the door when both his passengers were out and sat down behind the wheel, backing up in the long, narrow driveway.

"C'mon Mouse," Josh said, turning away from the police car, reaching out to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Let's get our stuff and head out."

The twelve-year old followed obediently as the hunter walked up the porch steps and unlocked the door. Before the door was fully open, Mouse slipped inside and ran to his bedroom to gather his belongings.

As Josh grabbed his duffel bag and waited for the boy to get his own, his thoughts turned to what would happen in the next few hours. Even though he had been released from police custody, he knew that he was still on someone else's radar. John Winchester was likely aware that he'd collected Mouse and returned to the cabin. Josh knew that John was not going to give up and leave them alone, that he'd follow them until he caught up. Deciding that he didn't want to be on the run anymore- that was no life for Mouse- the hunter made up his mind to return to Ohio, to return home and meet John Winchester on his own terms.

"I got my stuff," Mouse said as he stepped into the cabin's living room, "Are we really going home?"

Josh smiled and nodded, "Yeah, kiddo, we're going to go home."

Mouse grinned and ran out the door.

The hunter followed and opened the door to his pickup truck, dumping the luggage into the back before climbing into the driver's seat while the boy took the passenger's.

SPN

Since leaving the cabin, Mouse hadn't spoken much so Josh turned on the radio to cut through the silence. Now the boy fidgeted uncomfortably on his seat. A thought had been pestering him for a few hours.

"Um… Josh?" the boy began, wondering how to begin.

The hunter turned off the radio and glanced at the boy quickly before returning his attention to the road.

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinking," Mouse continued, "Those police officers arrested you for kidnapping and well… who did they think you kidnapped?"

For a moment Josh said nothing, he simply focused on driving before he turned to the child, "Don't worry about it, Mouse."

Now, just telling Mouse not to worry about something may have worked when he was younger and wouldn't understand the answer to his question anyway, but he was twelve-years old! Not a baby, and besides, what if someone else accused Josh of kidnapping again? This didn't just affect Josh; it affected his nephew as well.

"No," Mouse said, "I want to know who they thought you'd kidnapped."

"Mouse-" Josh began but the boy interrupted.

"No! Tell me!"

"Fine," the hunter pulled the truck onto the gravel shoulder of the road and put on his hazards. He turned in his seat to face the boy.

"I'll tell you," Josh told him, "But you have to promise to listen to the whole story and not interrupt me, okay?"

Mouse turned to face his uncle, crossing his legs underneath him, "I promise."

Josh didn't speak for a long moment. Instead he peered out the windshield. It was late in the afternoon and he knew they would have to stop for the night soon. He just hoped that telling Mouse the truth wouldn't be a mistake. He knew that one day he may have to tell the boy the truth about his origins but he had hoped that it wouldn't be this day.

Sighing heavily, the hunter ran a hand through his hair before peering at the child with a grim look on his face. He could tell by the way Mouse mirrored his expression and fidgeted that he was anxious.

"You've heard of John Winchester, right?" Josh asked and the twelve-year old nodded.

Of course he had heard of John Winchester, he was nearly a legend in the hunting community. And despite the fact that Josh had never hunted with him again after the man asked him to commit infanticide, he was sure he'd spoken the name in passing or that Mouse had heard of the man from Bobby Singer or Rufus Turner or any other partner Josh had had in the past.

The boy nodded but said nothing, keeping true to his word and not interrupting the story.

"I don't know how to say this… so I'm just going to say it," Josh gritted his teeth, struggling with the decision to tell Mouse who he really was.

"He's your father," the hunter told him and waited for the boy to react.

The twelve-year old frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and Josh could almost see the questions blossoming in the child's mind:

Why had Josh not told him this before?

Why was he not with his father?

Did John know where he was?

"Wha-" Mouse began but Josh held up a hand, "You said you wouldn't interrupt. I'll tell you what happened."

The boy bit his lip and nodded, his look of confusion breaking Josh's heart.

"When you were just a baby," the hunter began, "Not even a year old yet, there was a fire in your nursery. No one knows exactly how it started- the official report said it was faulty electrical wiring- but the only thing that matters is that your mother was killed in that fire and something… something snapped in John, your father, that night, or so I imagine. Accidents like that weren't supposed to happen. Not to someone you knew, especially not to you or your family. I guess John couldn't cope with what had happened and from what I've heard, he changed that night."

Mouse stared at Josh, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"Your father took you and your brother to live with a man he worked with for a while," Josh continued, offering the common knowledge most hunters knew of John Winchester's story, "But he didn't stay long. After a few months he moved away, renting motel rooms for you and your brother and him to stay in."

"I have a brother…" the boy whispered but did so quietly enough that it didn't really disrupt the story.

"I got a call from John one day," Josh started up again, his voice thick, "And he told me he needed help killing a monster."

Mouse's expression was more neutral now. He was familiar with Josh taking calls from other hunters who needed help with things that went bump in the night.

"I agreed," Josh told him, "Reluctantly."

"So I drove to Bannock," the hunter continued, "And went into the convenience store where John was. Then, when no one was looking, I kidnapped his youngest son."

The look of bewilderment had returned to Mouse's face and the boy frowned.

"John had called me to help get rid of a 'monster'," Josh felt tears well up in his eyes at the memory, "But the monster he wanted me to kill was just a little boy, a baby, really."

"He told me that the baby had started the fire and killed his wife," Josh said, his voice cracking, "That the child was evil."

"We had planned that I would abduct the baby, kill him and hide his body so no one would ever find it," Josh struggled to hold himself together, "But I couldn't murder a child. So I kept the baby and raised him as my own."

Mouse's eyes were now as wide as saucers as realization dawned on him.

"Me? That was me?"

Josh nodded and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, "I couldn't go through with what John wanted. So I made up a story, telling everyone you were my nephew and that your folks had died in a car accident."

"But… the pictures…" Mouse stammered.

"They're photos of my wife and my son before I became a hunter, when I was younger," Josh explained.

"And my name?" Mouse asked, his breathing becoming quick, "Is Luke even my real name?"

Josh shook his head; "I couldn't risk calling you your name so I chose Luke, after my boy."

"Why… why did John think I was a monster? I was just a baby! I'm not a monster!" Mouse exclaimed.

"I know! I know," Josh agreed, "I told you, something snapped in him. I don't know what. I guess he needed someone to blame."

"He tried to kill me!" Mouse almost shouted.

You don't know the half of it, Josh thought.

"You lied to me!" the twelve-year old snapped, "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I wanted to wait until you were older," Josh explained, "I didn't think you would understand."

The boy scowled, clearly upset that the hunter didn't think he was old enough to learn the truth about his past, but nodded, calming down and asked another question.

"Is that… Did John call the police to the cabin?" Mouse asked, fidgeting once again.

Josh nodded.

"How did he find out?"

"I was careful," the hunter muttered, "No one knew the truth except for Bobby and Rufus. I guess one or both of them let the beans spill and John found out."

"What does John want now?"

Josh looked into Mouse's eyes, the gravity of the situation clear on his face.

"He wants to kill you."

SPN

Mouse sat silently in the passenger's seat as Josh drove, thoughts racing through his mind as the boy worked to make sense of what the hunter had just told him.

It seemed unbelievable, incomprehensible; that the man he'd known for as long as he could remember had no blood ties to him at all and had actually only ended up with him because he couldn't kill a baby. Would another hunter have been so softhearted? Perhaps it was best not to dwell on that train of thought.

From the corner of his eye, Mouse peered at Josh and felt himself loving the man even more, knowing what he'd done- what he'd risked- in taking him in and raising him as his own.

Blood may be thicker than water, but Mouse's own father had tried to have him killed as a baby for something he couldn't possibly have done.

No, John Winchester was not his father. Josh, who had fed, clothed, taught and protected him for eleven and a half years was his real family.

Smiling to himself, Mouse closed his eyes and felt asleep, secure in the fact that Josh was with him and wouldn't let anything bad happen.

SPN

The sun was just a red sliver on the horizon as Josh pulled his truck into the gas station. They were the only customers, the only other cars in the lot belonged to those of the employees.

Hours had gone by since they'd left Rufus' cabin in Whitefish and they still had a long way to go before they arrived home.

A sense of urgency had overcome Josh and he had forgone eating lunch and dinner in diners to use the drive-through windows of fast-food joints. Not that Mouse complained much. The kid liked the treat of having chicken nuggets, fries and soda for dinner instead of something healthy.

Now that the sun had almost disappeared though, Josh knew he couldn't drive all night and would need to stop to get a few hours of shuteye before continuing on.

"Damn it," the hunter growled to himself as he turned the pickup's engine off and opened his door.

Mouse, who had been asleep in the seat beside him, stirred and blinked blearily.

"Wher'we?" he muttered, reaching up to rub his eyes.

"Just at a gas station," Josh told him, "Are you hungry? Do you want a snack?"

"Yeah!" Mouse exclaimed eagerly and opened his door, jumping out of the truck and walking over to Josh's side.

"We'll stop at the next town we see and get a motel room for the night," the hunter said as he opened the lid on the gas tank and put the end of the nozzle inside, watching the numbers increase on the yellow screen of the pump idly.

"Okay," the twelve-year old replied, looking around and stepping from foot to foot.

"Hopefully we'll get home tomorrow night," Josh told him.

"Then what do we-" Mouse began to ask but stopped when a large black car screeched into the parking lot, coming to a halt right alongside Josh's pickup truck.

"Mouse-" the hunter began but he was interrupted as the driver's side door of the Chevy Impala flew open and a large figure rushed them.

The boy, startled and scared, backed up against the gas pump, frozen with terror as the stranger pulled out a gun and shot Josh in the abdomen twice while still advancing towards them.

The injured hunter released his hold on the gas hose and the nozzle slid out of the gas tank of his pickup, hitting the concrete and spraying gasoline everywhere.

"JOSH!" Mouse screamed as the hunter collapsed, his head striking the gas pump as he went down.

The boy dropped to his knees beside the injured man and tried to place his hands over the bullet wounds.

"Run," Josh whispered, his face pale and his eyes glassy, "Run."

"No!" Mouse shook his head and then cried out as a strong, calloused hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and drew him upwards.

"Let me go!" the boy cried, striking wildly at the large, bearish figure hold him.

The lights of the gas station had yet to turn on in the gathering gloom and the figure was only a dark silhouette to the boy's frightened eyes.

"Josh!" Mouse called, letting out a yelp of pain as the man slammed his back against the door of the pickup truck.

Fear and adrenaline raced through the child's veins and his wide eyes took in the man holding him trapped. John Winchester was tall and broad-shouldered, barrel-chested. He was wearing blue jeans, military-style boots, a dark blue plaid shirt and dark coat hanging open. The lower half of his face was covered in a black beard flecked with grey, his dark hair hanging in his face.

The hunter's dark eyes smoldered with a hate unlike anything Mouse had ever seen. Although the boy had never encountered a crazy person before, the look in the man's eyes told him that John Winchester was indeed crazy.

Holding the twelve-year old still with one strong hand on the back of his neck, John raised the gun in his other hand to press it hard against the base of Mouse's throat.

"Now I can finish what I started all those years ago," the man snarled and Mouse closed his eyes, terrified, and waited for the killing shot.

It didn't come.

The sound of a car door slamming shut sounded in the nearly empty parking lot and a second voice spoke up.

"Let him go, Dad, or I'll shoot you."

For a moment Mouse continued to keep his eyes shut, tears welling up beneath the closed lids, but then the muzzle of the gun digging into his throat disappeared.

"Now, drop him," the voice spoke again, cracking.

John Winchester did exactly as his eldest son ordered and abruptly released his hold on Mouse, the boy falling to the concrete beside the truck in a shivering heap.

"You don't know what you're doing," the father snarled, still facing the pickup truck, Dean's gun pressed tight to his back.

"Oh yes I do," Dean commented, "Saving a kid."

"You'll regret this," John warned him and turned suddenly.

Dean, pulled his hand away as fast as a snake striking, certain his father was going for the gun but instead John shoved him away and took of sprinting across the parking lot and into the wooded area behind the gas station, the sound of approaching sirens egging him on.

"Josh," Mouse cried, crawling on hands and knees towards the injured hunter, ignoring the large puddle of gasoline.

Reaching his uncle, the boy pressed both hands down onto the bullet wounds, begging the man not to die.

Dean Winchester shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and knelt beside Josh.

"He'll be okay," he told the boy, "The police are coming."

Mouse barely heard the older boy. The tears that had been welling up while John Winchester had threatened him were now overflowing and he was crying in earnest, frightened Josh was going to die.

"Please, Josh," he begged, "Please don't leave me. Stay. Stay with me."

SPN

Dean Winchester peered down sadly at the little boy crouched over the hunter's body before turning to the police cars just pulling into the parking lot.

As two officers ran towards Mouse and Josh, a third one approached Dean.

"What happened here?"

"They were getting gas, I guess," he told the officer, "And I saw this guy driving that car pull in beside them. The driver pulled a gun out and I said he wanted money. The man on the ground didn't want to give him anything so he got shot."

The policeman listened to Dean's fabricated story, having no reason to doubt him.

"The guy was gonna shoot the kid but I saw him and told him to leave because the employees had called the police," Dean explained.

"And he left, just like that?" the policeman asked, somewhat skeptically.

Dean nodded, "He was just a coward. He ran into the trees over there."

The hunter pointed to the wooded area behind the gas station.

The police officer nodded and spoke into the radio resting on his shoulder, confirming that an ambulance was on its way and requesting backup so they could do a search of the woods for the man.

"And who are you?" the office asked Dean.

"Just a Good Samaritan," the sixteen-year old told him and smiled.

W

Dean waited out of the way as an ambulance arrived and Josh was loaded into the back, Mouse climbing into the vehicle with him, unwilling to leave the hunter's side.

Once Josh and Mouse were on their way to the hospital and the police no longer needed to question him- he was sure that the guys in the gas station's little store hadn't seen him exit the Impala after John- he started walking, planning on stealing a car and getting himself to the hospital as soon as he was far enough away from the local law enforcement.

SPN

Mouse looked up as someone sat down in the seat beside him and was surprised to see the teenager who had saved him from John.

Josh had been in surgery for hours- at least that's how it felt to Mouse- and the boy hadn't moved from his spot in the waiting room since, even refusing to be looked at by a nurse until he knew the hunter was all right.

He received strange looks from the other people in the waiting room, no doubt because of his red-rimmed eyes, puffy face and the strong scent of gasoline wafting off his clothes.

"How're you holding up?" the teen asked and Mouse shrugged one shoulder before looking up at him, his eyes widening.

"You… You're…" Mouse stammered.

"Just a Good Samaritan," the older boy gave a charming smile that made his green eyes crinkle.

"…My brother," the child finished, sounding shocked and awed.

The teen frowned, "Yeah, I guess I am."

Then he smiled again, "Dean Winchester."

The boy held out his hand and Mouse took it, shaking.

"Luke," the twelve-year old replied, "But everyone calls me Mouse."

Dean smiled but there was sadness in his smile.

Releasing the teen's hand, Mouse swallowed, wincing as it hurt his throat and asked a question that he was a bit afraid of asking.

"Why did you save me?"

A line appeared between Dean's eyebrows for a moment before he answered, "Because I couldn't let my Dad kill you."

Mouse looked at the floor, "So, you don't think I'm a monster too?"

Dean frowned though the younger boy couldn't see it, "No way! You're just a regular kid. My Dad… Our Dad… I guess he unhinged a bit after Mom died and… well… he needed someone to blame for her death, I guess. Hey, if the fire had started in my room, we'd probably have our places reversed."

Mouse didn't reply. He scuffed his sneakers against the tile floor.

"Did you think I was dead?"

He heard Dean let out a long breath, "Yeah, I did. After you vanished from that convenience store and no one could find you, everyone gave up and said you were dead. That you must be dead. And I believed it. I was just a kid though, and didn't have any reason to doubt Dad when he told me you weren't coming back."

Mouse heard Dean's voice crack as he spoke and lifted his head.

"Josh told me he was my uncle," he told the teen, "That my Mom and Dad had died in a car accident."

"I believed Josh too," Mouse concluded.

Both boys lapsed into silence again. After a short time, Mouse spoke up again.

"Are you going to leave?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, confusion tingeing his voice.

"After Josh is out of surgery," Mouse explained, "And you know that we'll be all right. Are you going to go away?"

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair.

"I don't know," he answered, "I'm not going back to Dad, if that's what you mean."

Mouse bit his lip, "Maybe you could stay with us."

Dean looked at him, "I don't know…"

"Please, you're… you're my big brother," the twelve-year old begged, "You have to!"

Mouse peered pleadingly at Dean and the older boy chuckled.

"Damn," he said, "You don't know how much I've missed those 'puppy-dog eyes' of yours."

"So you'll stay with us, Dean?" Mouse asked, trying out his big brother's name for himself and feeling it easy and comfortably familiar on his tongue.

"If Josh is cool with it," Dean told him.

"I'm sure he'll say yes!" Mouse exclaimed and reached forward, unabashedly hugging his brother tightly.

Dean didn't react for a moment, then, slowly he wrapped his arms around his little brother and squeezed as tightly as he dared, smiling despite the lump in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Bruce Springsteen song.
> 
> I don't know what the inside of the CPS buildings look like so I am using my imagination and limited knowledge from television/movies and books. If I've made any glaring errors, I apologize.
> 
> Please take a moment to leave Kudos or a Comment and I'll update ASAP!


	7. Wild Horses

"Family of Joshua Trapp?" a nurse asked as she stepped into the waiting room, peering around for anyone looking expectant or making a move to stand.

The twelve-year old jumped out of his seat, followed by his older brother who was giggling uncontrollably.

"Your last name is Trapp?" Dean asked, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter, "Your name is Mouse Trapp! Mouse Trapp!"

The boy ignored the teenager and approached the nurse.

"Josh's my uncle," he told her and the woman nodded, but then frowned, "You don't have any other family with you?"

"My older brother," Mouse pointed to Dean, "He's-"

"Eighteen," the sixteen-year old lied blatantly, "I'm looking after him until our uncle is all right."

The nurse nodded and smiled; clearly thinking that Dean was a good, responsible boy.

"Your uncle is out of surgery and doing well," she told the brothers.

"Can we see him?" Mouse asked anxiously.

The nurse nodded, "He's just being moved to another room to stay in but I can take you. He's still recovering from the surgery so he'll probably be sleepy."

Mouse smiled at the prospect of seeing Josh again, alive and on the mend.

The nurse turned around and led the brothers through the winding hospital corridors.

Mouse had to force himself not to run ahead of the nurse in his haste to reach Josh's room even though he had no idea where it was.

"Here we are," the nurse said and stopped in front of a door that looked like all the others that led to patients' rooms- small square chicken wire-covered window and mint-coloured paint- but for the small metal plate screwed into that read '117'.

The nurse opened the door quietly and Mouse stepped right into the room, peering around for the hunter.

The first thing he saw was an empty bed and for a moment his heart skipped a beat in fear but then the nurse stepped ahead of him and drew back the green dividing curtain to reveal a second bed and Josh.

Mouse hurried forwards and stood at the bedside. His uncle's eyes were closed, the lids purple and bruised-looking. Josh's face was pale and beaded with sweat.

Concerned, the twelve-year old turned to the nurse, "Is he okay? He looks really sick."

The nurse checked Josh's chart and a couple of machines the hunter was attached to before nodding, "He had some pretty major surgery but he'll be all right."

Mouse nodded and reached out, touching Josh's hand.

The nurse walked out of the room, giving them some privacy, telling Dean to use the call button if they needed anything.

"Hey Josh," the boy muttered, peering into the hunter's face and feeling tears well up in his eyes again, "I'm okay. I'm not hurt. Dean saved me from John. He said he's shoot John if he killed me."

The hunter's face twitched and slowly, Josh opened his eyes.

Mouse grinned.

"Hey," the boy said and Josh smiled a little, "Hey."

Then, the hunter frowned, "That's a nasty bruise you've got there."

The twelve-year old's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he reached up to touch the skin at the base of his throat, wincing at the tender, swollen tissue.

"I'm okay," Mouse assured the man.

"In better condition than I am," Josh chuckled a little, his voice raspy and whispery.

Then his eyes grew hard and sharp, "You didn't listen to me. I told you to run."

Again, tears prickled at Mouse's eyes, "I know but I couldn't leave you. You were hurt bad… You could have been dying."

"That doesn't matter," Josh told him, "Your job isn't to protect me."

"But…" Mouse stammered, his tears overflowing, unable to believe he was being chastised.

"What you did was stupid," Josh continued, "You could have died. Would have died because you didn't listen to me."

"Give him a break!" Dean stepped forward and interrupted, "He's just a kid."

Josh's eyes rolled to take in the teenager.

"Who do you think you are? Don't tell me how to raise my kid!"

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out, perhaps too shocked that the injured hunter still had enough venom in him to attack but him and a twelve-year old, and took a few steps backwards.

Josh pulled his hand away from Mouse's hold and looked away from him.

"Josh!" the boy exclaimed, "Don't be angry! Please! I'm sorry!"

But the hunter wasn't listening. Mouse started crying in earnest and Dean stepped forwards again, this time putting an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Let's go get something to eat in the cafeteria, okay?"

Mouse, although he wasn't hungry, nodded and followed Dean out of the room.

SPN

Dean watched silently as Mouse pulled his sandwich apart, separating its contents but not eating any of it.

"Maybe it was just the anesthesia making him a jerk," the teen suggested, trying to cheer the boy up.

Mouse shook his head, "No, he was right. I should have run away."

Dean frowned, "Then Dad would have just shot you in the back and you would be dead."

Mouse didn't reply. He just stared down at his deconstructed sandwich with red-rimmed eyes.

"You know," Dean said, "the same thing happened to me."

The twelve-year old didn't look up but Dean continued.

"Dad and I were out hunting a Black Dog," the teen told him, "I was just a kid, it was only my third or fourth real hunt and I was scared shit- crapless."

"Anyway, since I was so nervous I wasn't paying enough attention and this Black Dog jumps out of the bushes and right onto Dad. I froze. I didn't know what to do. Dad was trying to kill the thing and telling me to kill it but I couldn't.

Finally, it seemed as though something just clicked and I shot the damn thing. I killed the Black Dog but it clawed Dad's chest up pretty bad. He really reamed me when we got back to the motel room for not listening to him. He was mad for a few hours but then he cooled down and we never really talked about it again, as though it had never happened."

Mouse didn't speak for a long moment, then he said quietly, "That's not the same thing."

Dean sighed, "Look, what I'm trying to get at is that, sure, Dad was mad I had messed up but he couldn't stay mad at me forever or it would have just been ridiculous to live with him. I'm sure Josh will be okay in a little while. He just needs time to calm down."

"You're a kid," Dean continued, "Josh knows that and I'm sure he knows you'll ignore him when he tells you to do something. He'll get over it."

Mouse lifted one shoulder in a shrug but didn't respond.

SPN

Mouse stepped quietly into Josh's room. He had stayed away from the man for the rest of the day, wandering the halls and grounds with Dean and eating his meals in the cafeteria but now he wanted to be with his uncle, even if the man was still angry with him.

Stepping up to the bed, the boy took a seat in the chair set out for visitors and tentatively reached out to touch the man's hand as he had done earlier.

Josh, his breathing slow and even with sleep, did not stir.

"I'm sorry," Mouse whispered, his voice barely audible, "I should have listened to you."

Josh remained asleep for a long moment before he breathed in deeply through his nose and opened his eyes.

Quickly, Mouse drew his hand away from the man's and glanced down, ashamed.

"Mouse," Josh said quietly and the boy looked up reluctantly.

"I'm glad you didn't listen to me," he said, "I was afraid I'd lose you, that'd I'd have to see you die right beside me."

Josh's eyes filled with tears and so did Mouse's. Again, the boy reached out and touched the hunter's hand, this time Josh's fingers closed around Mouse's smaller hand.

SPN

"So this is your brother?" Josh asked with a wry smile.

He had been in the hospital for two days and was recovering nicely, or so his doctor claimed.

Mouse had told him the fictitious story John Winchester's eldest boy had fabricated so as to explain the attack at the gas station, making that one less thing for him to worry about.

The police however, with a description of said Winchester, had been unable to find him. Which was something that added to Josh's worry.

"Dean Winchester," the sixteen-year old shook Josh's hand and looked somewhat sheepish.

"You never knew about any of this?" Josh asked, waving a hand in Mouse's direction.

Dean shook his head, "No Sir. Dad told me Sammy had died."

Josh frowned, "Mouse told me what you did to save him. Threatening your own father."

The teen nodded, "I couldn't let him shoot a kid."

"How did you know Mouse really was a regular kid and not some shapeshifter or skinwalker?" Josh asked, just to play Devil's advocate for a moment.

"Well," Dean hesitated a second, "He was with you. I knew you were a hunter so I didn't think you'd be so friendly towards a real monster."

Josh smiled slightly and so did Dean.

"Now, you don't know where your old man is, by chance?"

The teenager shook his head.

"Dean has nowhere to go!" Mouse broke in, leaning forward on his seat, "Can he stay with us? Please!"

"I don't know," Josh replied, scratching at his stubbly chin, "We've only just met him."

"Sir, if I wanted to hurt Sammy, don't you think I would have done it already, while you were lying helpless in a hospital bed?"

Josh's eyes widened, "Who said anything about that? I didn't!"

Dean took on a chagrinned expression.

"I'm only joking," the hunter smiled.

"So can he stay?" Mouse asked again.

Josh nodded, "Dean can stay as long as he likes."

Mouse grinned.

W

Lifting one foot onto the metal step attached to the trailer, Josh frowned as he dug in his pocket for the keys. After a moment he found what he was looking for an unlocked the door. Easing it open, he stepped inside the only home he'd had since his wife and son had died.

"You two coming inside?" he asked without turning.

"One second!" Mouse called and Josh heard the door of the pickup truck slam shut.

"You forgot your phone," the twelve-year old stepped inside the small space and handed Josh his mobile phone, "It was in the glove compartment."

"Thanks," Josh replied offhandedly and took the device. He hadn't turned it on since he'd gotten it back from the police when they let him out of jail.

"There's not much space to sleep," Mouse told Dean as the older boy peered around the trailer curiously.

"I sleep in the bottom of the bunk bed," the twelve-year old explained and pointed to the rear of the trailer, "And Josh uses the top when he can."

"The table folds down and the seats around it make a bed," Josh told the boys absentmindedly as he turned his phone back on and saw that he had twenty-four missed calls, all from Bobby Singer.

"But you can sleep in the bed, Dean," Josh set his phone on the narrow space of counter and took a step forward when the phone buzzed loudly.

Snatching the device up, Josh answered, "Bobby Singer, if this is you, you're damn lucky I'm too tired to drive up to Sioux Falls and kick your ass for not keeping your big mouth shut!"

There was silence on the other end of the line for a long time then Bobby Singer did reply.

"I'm sorry, Josh," he apologized, his voice thick.

"Are you drunk?" Josh snapped, ready to end the fall.

"Wish I was," Bobby replied, "Never been more sober in my life. Why didn't you answer your goddamn phone? I thought you and the tyke were dead!"

Josh sneered, well aware that both Dean and Mouse were watching him closely.

"Oh, like you'd give a shit!"

"I didn't mean to say anything," Bobby told him, "But John, he's one conniving son of a bitch if he's anything. He… He threatened to hurt my daughter."

"Your… daughter," Josh faltered, "I didn't know you had a daughter?"

"No one does," Bobby explained, "We had a falling out and she doesn't talk to me. Somehow John found out about her and threatened to hurt her if I didn't talk. I'm sorry. If it was anything else but Carrie Ann…"

Josh said nothing. He knew what Bobby was feeling, having your child threatened by John Winchester.

"Is she all right?"

"Oh, she's fine," Bobby replied, "But now I'm even deeper in the doghouse with her."

Josh smiled slightly.

"Well, thank you for your concern," the hunter said and ended the call.

For a long moment no one spoke and in the silence the phone took the opportunity to buzz once again.

This time it wasn't Bobby but another hunter, asking Josh to come and help him get rid of a couple of rawheads.

"Sorry Mack, but I'm out of commission for a while," Josh apologized, "But try Caleb. He's a good kid."

The other hunter said he would do that and hung up.

"You're not going on a hunt?" Mouse asked.

He knew that Josh could and had gone out to hunt with a partner in the past, even if he was sporting injuries, out of his own principle of not wanting innocent people hurt because he wasn't feeling up to it.

"Not this time," Josh told him, "I think I'll stay here with you for a while."

"Really?" Mouse asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Wild horses couldn't take me away," Josh chuckled and stumbled back a step as the twelve-year old ran towards him and wrapped his arms around his waist in a tight hug.

SPN

Dean, privy to the sight of his brother with a loving guardian, smiled and knew he'd be forever grateful to Josh for making the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from a Rolling Stones song.
> 
> This is the end, Ladies and Gents. I'm feeling a sequel or series in the future, especially with John still at large, but for now I have other stories itching to be written.
> 
> Please take a moment to leave Kudos or a final Comment if you enjoy this story; either one would be greatly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title comes from a James Taylor song.  
> I am not sure how realistic it would be for someone to blame a baby for something as serious as causing a fire and murder but people do just snap and for the sake of the story, we'll say that John did; the grief and shock of the loss of Mary pushed him off the deep end. Also, Max Miller was blamed for his mother's death in 'Nightmare' (Season 1, Episode 14) so maybe it isn't such a stretch of the imagination for John to have the same feelings as Max's father.  
> Please take a moment and leave Kudos or a Comment!


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